Retaliation
by Nutmeggedya
Summary: After Dwight takes a prank on Jim too far, Michael decides that taking the office on a hiking trip is the only way to relieve the tension between his two favorite salesmen.  Hardcore retaliation and some JAM ensue.  AUish.  Occurs sometime after The Job.
1. Saran Wrap

Author's Note: This story takes place sometime after The Job. It's my first Office fic, and reviews would be _very_ much appreciated, especially because I need to know whether the story is worth continuing.

Disclaimer: Although I wish I owned The Office…I definitely don't. Also, one of the pranks, as mentioned later, is taken from an episode of _Friends_. So I don't own that either.

**Chapter 1: Saran Wrap**

"OH. MY. GOD."

Jim's scream rang out through the entire office as he walked back to his desk, having just enjoyed his usual ham and cheese sandwich in the kitchen. Jim stared slack jawed at his desk. Dwight, swiveling slowly in his chair at his own desk, gave Jim a toothless, smug grin.

"Surprise," Dwight drawled.

The rest of the office staff, in response to Jim's exclamation, left their desks and congregated around the salesmen's desks. Several people gasped and covered their noses. The stench coming from the mess on Jim's desk was unbelievable. Pam's hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Dwight…what _is_ that?" she whispered, aghast.

"Cow manure," Dwight said forcefully, and people began to mutter in disgust. "Beets flourish in it. Jim's sales reports do not."

Jim continued to stare at the mess on his desk for several tense seconds. His screen saver was invisible due to a thick film of brown muck. His phone, mouse, keyboard, and files were completely covered. The very tip of his picture frame just barely poked through the mountain of smelly, dark sludge.

Although his expression was remarkably controlled, his narrowed, overly bright eyes let on that he was absolutely livid. "Why?" he demanded, the single syllable portraying a remarkable amount of anger. "_Why_?"

"Two words, four syllables," Dwight quipped. "Saran wrap."

"But that's only three syllables," Kevin said, confused.

* * *

"Do I regret pulling a prank on Jim? No, I do not," Dwight informed the camera. "Usually, I'm the bigger man and ignore Jim's pranks. But yesterday, with the bathroom trick, he finally crossed a line. He knows I'm human, and therefore to live I must consume water _every day_. He knows Schrutes are an unusually thirsty brood, and I drink all the water in my giant bottle by noon _every day_. He knows I use the second stall from the left at precisely 12:38 pm _every day_." Dwight glared at the camera. "Putting saran wrap on the toilet seat? Jim has hit an all time low. He interrupted a ritual that happens _every day_. Plus, pee was everywhere. 

"He _so_ deserves what he got."

"I'm not surprised Dwight finally got Jim back," Angela told the camera seriously. "Pee was everywhere. And that's a health violation."

Kevin giggled. "_Pee_ was_ everywhere_!"

* * *

"What's going on out here?" Michael wondered, venturing from his office in response to all of the commotion. "And what's that smel – OH MY GOD! JIM! SOMETHING DIED ON YOUR DESK!" 

"Actually," Phyllis piped up for Jim, who was too busy glaring at Dwight to clarify, "Dwight smothered Jim's desk in…well…cow poop."

"Dwight!" Michael cried. "What the _hell_?"

"I'm sorry, Michael," Dwight said in such a way that it was obvious he wasn't sorry in the least. "After the…_saran wrap episode_…I had to get Jim back."

"And covering my monitor in your home made beet fertilizer while I ate lunch was an appropriate way to avenge _saran wrap_?" Jim cried, gesturing emphatically with his arms.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Michael cried, coming to stand in between where Jim fumed and Dwight swiveled. "Wow, that's nasty," he muttered plugging his nose. Then, "Let's not jump down each other's throats here! That's what she said…tee hee," he giggled.

"It's not the same when you say 'that's what she said' after your own sentence," Toby told Michael forlornly.

"Shut up, Toby. And go away. Your lack of a sense of humor is depressing me." Toby hung his head and moved to the back of the crowd. "Anywho," Michael continued, "Jim, Dwight, let's be reasonable here. Jim played a prank on Dwight, and Dwight retaliated. So everyone's even."

"WE ARE NOT EVEN!" Dwight exploded. "He's played six million pranks on me, and I only did this one!"

"Yeah, but _cow poop_?" Jim growled. "Isn't that a bit much, Old MacDonald?"

"Don't call me that," Dwight snapped.

"Enough!" Michael interjected. "Okay, I know what will solve this controversy!" Michael chirped. Everyone in the office held their breath, knowing whatever Michael was thinking couldn't be a good thing. "TEAM BONDING ACTIVITES!"

Everyone groaned. Meredith took an extra big swig of her drink.

Michael's selective hearing kicked into high gear, and he totally missed the whining of his coworkers. "I know, it's a great idea, isn't it?!" he beamed. "Let's think. We need a team building exercise that'll relieve stress, and make you so tired you'll forget any grudges you hold against other employees of Dunder Mifflin Scranton…I'VE GOT IT! TOMORROW WE CAN GO ON AN OVERNIGHT HIKING TRIP!"

There was an instant uproar.

"But tomorrow's Friday! You can't take my Friday night from me! That's _date night_!" Kelly gushed, horrified.

"Who's going to feed my cats?" Angela demanded.

"I had plans with Gill for Friday night!" Oscar moaned.

"I won't go," Stanley said flatly.

"We have to work," Toby said.

"Hey! HEY!" Michael silenced them. "First of all, I thought I told you to go away, Toby!" Toby frowned. "Second, you have to go, Stanley. Everyone has to go. It's mandatory." There was more complaining. "No! My word is final! We're meeting in the parking lot at 7am tomorrow. Wear sneakers, and bring blow up mattresses. I know a hiking trail that leads to a campsite with cabins and crap. And don't worry, I'll take care of the food…and the TEAM BUILDING FUN!" Michael beamed around at all of his sullen, unsmiling employees.

Well, _mostly_ unsmiling.

"I think that's a _great _idea, Michael!" Andy cried. "How about I provide some tunes for the road? Some a capella, maybe?" He promptly began to scat.

"Good idea, Andy!" Andy beamed. Michael grinned and said, "Alright, you crazy cats, back to work! And Jim?" Jim cocked an eyebrow at him, and Michael said, "Clean your desk."

Jim turned to Pam, his eyes widening in an expression that clearly read, "Kill me now."

* * *

"Did I really give Jim the idea for the saran wrap prank?" Pam repeated back to the camera man, grinning, obviously pleased with herself. "Why yes, I did. I got the idea from watching _Friends_. But I still give Jim credit for the prank. He's the one who knew Dwight's bathroom schedule. And that Dwight never uses urinals. And he made the saran wrap taut enough across the toilet so that anything that hit it bounced right off. Her grin widened. "Apparently, pee was everywhere."

"Who's Jim?" Creed asked the camera man.

Toby sighed. "I had to start another complaint box for Dwight after the saran wrap episode." He tilted his head heavenward and closed his eyes briefly before looking back at the camera. "I hate my job."

* * *

Jim's brow furrowed a bit, and he looked away from the camera. He pulled the corners of his mouth in, causing his chin to bunch. He looked back at the camera, frowning slightly. "The only thing about the saran wrap is that Dwight smelled like…well, you know…urine…for the rest of the day. Oh, and he decided to put _cow poop _on my desk. Thus inspiring Michael to enforce a mandatory office bonding session. Yeah…this sucks.

"But don't get me wrong! Cow poop is NOT enough to make me regret my prank! Not at all! I'm willing to pay the overly extreme price of cow poop in between the keys on my keyboard to make sure Dwight gets what he deserves. A person _that annoying_ needs to be punished. Actually, the poop makes me want to torture him even more.

"What's that? Oh – your original question!" Jim said to the camera. "Sorry, I forgot…what was it? Oh, Pam thinking up the prank?

Jim gazed dreamily towards reception, away from the camera. "Yeah, I'm so proud of Pam for thinking that up…she's just…amazing." Jim smiled. Suddenly, a mischievous glint lit up his hazel eyes. "Actually, this hiking trip is perfect! It'll give us the _perfect_ opportunity to get Dwight back! I've got to go!" He stood up abruptly. His pants blocked the camera screen for a fraction of a second before he raced over to reception.


	2. Lions, Tigers, and Bears

Disclaimer: I don't own the Office.

**Chapter 2: Lions, Tigers, and Bears (Oh My!)**

"Everybody ready?" Michael cried for the umpteenth time. He was standing at the mouth of the hiking trail, sneakers tied, back pack secure, and foot tapping the damp ground impatiently. "I want to get to the top of this sucker by dinner time!"

"But Michael, this pamphlet says it's a four hour hike to the camp site, and it's only 8am right now," Phyllis said. "We'll be there by lunch time."

Michael shot her a dirty look. "Bonding time, Phyllis," he said heatedly, looking pointedly from Jim to Dwight and back. "_Bonding time_."

Phyllis hung her head and pocketed the pamphlet.

"Okay, while we're young, people!" Michael shouted as he started up the path.

"Michael, wait!" Dwight called urgently. "I just realized I have a voice mail on my cell phone!"

"Can't you check it while we walk?" Michael moaned.

"No way! This must be important! No one ever calls my cell phone!" Dwight exclaimed.

Pam and Jim exchanged knowing looks while Dwight activated his voice mail. Dwight's eyes widened behind his gigantic glasses as he listened to the message. Cradling his phone on his shoulder, he pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and scribbled a number on his hand. He pocketed the pen and snapped the phone shut loudly when he was done.

"Who was it?" Angela breathed, fluttering at his elbow.

"The zoo," Dwight said importantly. "They need the help of a sheriff with the experience of a purple belt _and_ knowledge about black bears, seeing as one's escaped from its enclosure and they need to lure it back." He grinned smugly. "Obviously, I fit the job description _perfectly_. The zoo keeper, Mr. Lyin, said I should call and ask for Mr. Behr."

"How'd the zoo get your number?" Oscar wondered.

"They must have seen Dwight's ad in the Scranton Times," Jim said, winking discretely at Pam. Pam covered her mouth to smother her giggles. The previous Christmas, Dwight had destroyed his cell phone after a failed CIA operation. His number had changed with his new phone, so Jim had convinced him to include it in an ad in the news paper, which had also listed his martial arts status and efficiency with pepper spray. "Just in case somebody needs the help of a professional," Jim had told him.

Dwight dialed the number he had written on his hand. He held the phone to his ear, straight-faced and somber, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Yes, hello, this is Dwight Schrute. Can I speak to Mr. Behr please?" He paused for a moment while the person on the other end said something, looking confused. "No, I'm an adult…no, I'm not kidding….What's so funny about needing to talk to Mr. Behr?...I don't want to talk to _a bear_, I want to talk to _Mr. Behr_!...Mr. Behr? He's the guy who needs a trained purple belt to help put the bears back in the cage…Mr. Lyin left me a message. He read my ad a few months back and said I should call…Mr. Lyin, the head zoo keeper, called…No, not _a _lion, _Mr._ Lyin!...What do you mean, 'the head zoo keeper's name is Alice?'"

"Let's go," Michael said while Dwight, very frustrated, continued to argue over his cell phone. "I think Dwight can talk and walk at the same time."

"MR. BEHR NEEDS ME!" Dwight screamed at the receiver.

* * *

Pam looked at the camera, fought back a grin, held a straight face for two seconds, and then dissolved into peals of laughter.

"I got a call from a zoo once," Creed told the camera. "They told me I was banned from Animal Kingdom forever. I still don't see what's wrong with putting a penguin in the polar bear enclosure. What else do those bears have to eat? Better the penguin than me."

"Yeah, we figured the old fashioned zoo prank would be a good warm up for Dwight," Jim told the camera, grinning. "It was one of the first things we thought of yesterday. I just left Dwight a message on his cell, and gave him the number to the local zoo. They think he called to talk to the animals…Dwight's such an idiot." Jim suddenly sat up straighter, looking over the camera. "Oh, Michael's waving me over. I guess it's time to start hiking." He graced the camera man with a classic Jim-shrug before trotting over to the rest of the group.

* * *

"Michael, I'm tired," Kevin huffed. "Can we stop and rest? There's a clearing right ahead."

Andy complained, "But we've only been going for fifteen minutes!"

"That's what she said!" Michael said with a snort.

Andy continued, "But seriously, we shouldn't have to stop for Kevin. He needs to work off all those M&Ms, anyway."

Kevin tried to hide his party bag of M&Ms behind his back.

"C'mon, Andy. Let's stop for a while. Now is as good a time as ever for bonding games!" Michael reasoned.

Andy perked up a little. "Bonding games?! WOW! What're we going to do?"

"How about nap time?" Stanley suggested in a monotone. "I always bond best when my eyes are shut."

Michael punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Stanley the Manley, you're just a hoot sometimes," he chuckled.

"I'm serious," Stanley said seriously.

"Fine, then we'll play a game where you can keep your eyes closed, you…you…," Michael spluttered to find an insult properly describing Stanley. "You…you LAZY PANTS, YOU!" he snapped. Stanley sighed while Michael glared at him.

"Pair up!" Michael ordered. People gravitated towards each other. Andy made to go to Michael, but Dwight beat him to it.

"Michael, I'd be honored to be your partner," Dwight said.

Michael shrugged. "Sure, get over here."

"How about you come to me, Michael."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "I'm the boss. Just get over here!"

"I can't."

"Don't be stupid, walk over here," Michael prompted. But Dwight wouldn't budge.

"If I move," he informed everyone, "the mountain tiger's will eat me. Jim said they're attracted to motion. As long as we're hiking, I'm safe, but when we've stopped, I need to draw an anti-mountain-tiger protection circle." Sure enough, Dwight had used a stick to draw a circle around himself in the dirt. "You should all protect yourselves, too!"

Most of the employees grinned knowingly at Jim while Michael rolled his eyes at Dwight and his protective circle. "Dwight, don't be ridiculous," he sighed. "There's no such thing as mountain tigers."

"But I saw pictures, on the internet!" Dwight cried. "They're a big threat to ignorant hikers! Quick, Michael, into my protective circle, or you'll be mountain tiger meat!"

* * *

"Tigers are the only kind of cat I don't like," Angela told the camera. "Fangs are vulgar."

"As long as the mountain tigers don't eat my M&Ms…" Kevin trailed off, looking nervous.

"Of course mountain tigers don't exist," Jim told the camera. "I just took some pictures of mountain lions off the web, photo shopped tiger heads onto them, and boom! Dwight was convinced." He sighed contentedly. "It's just too easy sometimes."

* * *

By the time the interviews were over, Dwight had been coaxed out of his circle and stood next to Michael, much to Andy's displeasure. Everyone else waited to pair up until Michael finished issuing directions.

"We're going to have a scavenger hunt!" Michael twittered enthusiastically. The employees' faces fell, but he plowed on, oblivious. "One person in each pair will be blindfolded" – he brandished a fistful of bandanas – "and the other will be given a list of items." He raised his other fist to show a sheaf of papers. "The blindfolded person has to collect all of the items on the list and bring them to me. The team who finishes first gets to lead the way up the mountain!" Dwight and Andy looked positively euphoric at the thought of winning such a prize. Everyone else just looked bored.

Pam reached up and tapped Jim on the shoulder. "Want to be my partner?" she asked hopefully, swiveling back and forth slightly, hands clasped behind her back.

Jim pretended to think it over. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well…I don't know…" he drawled.

Pam grinned at him. "Well, suck it, Halpert, 'cause you have no choice. Now go get our blindfold," she ordered firmly, although her smile undermined the effects of the order. Jim raised his hand in a salute before taking a bandana from Michael.

"I'll be your partner if you wear the blindfold," he reasoned.

Pam scoffed. "Yeah, we'll see about that. Now get a blindfold!" Jim trotted off.

"Gee whiz, Pam!" Jim chirped upon his return, making a show of scrutinizing the bandana very closely. "This blind fold has your name written all over it!"

"Does not," Pam huffed.

"Does too," Jim said, folding the red material carefully into a long strip. "Maybe you'd be able to see it better if it was right on top of your eyes." He trapped her between his chest and his arms, ignoring her protests as he tied the blindfold tightly across her face. He stepped back when he was done, and she stopped writhing.

Her fingers danced across the back of her head in an unsuccessful attempt to remove the blindfold. "You should be blindfolded!" she cried.

"Maybe next time," he said. "Ladies first, you know."

She swung her fist, meaning to punch Jim, but, being blindfolded, missed him by about a foot. They broke down laughing.

"Ahh, young love!" Phyllis whispered into Stanley's ear, one eye on the happy couple, as she tied his blindfold for him.

"I don't even need to see to know you're talking about Pam and Jim," he said grumpily.

"But they're just so cute together!" Phyllis gushed.

Stanley opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Michael.

"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" he roared, and the pairs meandered away reluctantly across the clearing.

Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed! If anyone can think of a creative prank to work into the scavenger hunt bit, which will be the next chapter, let me know. I have some ideas, but yours might be better. : )


	3. Of Nitwits and Nargles

Disclaimer: The Office belongs to NBC and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. And one of the pranks isn't mine, but I'll get to that later.

**Chapter 3: Of Nitwits and Nargles**

"Am I having fun?" Karen repeated incredulously, fidgeting with her blindfold. "What kind of question is that?! _Andy's_ my partner," she told the camera sadly, as if this last bit explained it all.

"No," Angela said, blunt as ever.

"Of course I'm having fun!" Andy gushed, head over heels with excitement. "Karen and I've already found the stick and the berries and the dirty sock and the chewing gum _and _the bobby pin, and we've only been hunting for five minutes!"

"I'd be having more fun if my hair looked better," Kelly sulked, swiping her bangs out of her eyes. "Somebody stole my bobby pin…."

* * *

Jim surveyed the list Michael had given him as he directed Pam down one of the trails leading out of the clearing. "First thing on the list is women's underpants," he informed his blindfolded charge. "I forgot mine at home today, so…looks like you're going commando, Beesly!"

Pam laughed. "Nice try. What's the _actual _first item?"

"A rock."

"Wow, this is going to be the hardest scavenger hunt ever," Pam said sarcastically, crouching down as Jim directed her towards a pebble. "It's going to be so much fun…."

Snapping twigs alerted Jim to the arrival of another group. Looking around, he realized that Dwight was steering Michael down the same path as him and Pam.

"LEFT!" Dwight screamed at Michael, whose arms were flung wide in a lame attempt to keep his balance. Michael stumbled to the left and hit a tree. "NO! I MEANT YOUR OTHER LEFT!"

Pam was still on the ground, feeling around in the grass for the rock. Grinning, Jim leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I think this scavenger hunt just got good."

Pam turned towards the sound of his voice. "Is that Dwight I hear?"

"You bet."

"Oh, do you think it's a good time to mess with him?!"

"Absolutely I do." Jim quickly assembled a pile of palm-sized stones next to Pam's sneaker, a place that was invisible to Dwight. He moved her hands so that they covered the rocks. Crouching down next to her, his breath hot on her neck, he instructed, "When you deem the time appropriate – and I'm trusting you big time, here! – chuck one of these rocks into the woods."

"But what if I hit someone!" she exclaimed, tugging at her blindfold. "Take this thing off! I can't see where I'm throwing!"

Jim grinned. "That's where the trust comes in. Aim true, soldier!" Squeezing her hand, he stood up and waited for Dwight and Michael to come closer. Once Michael was busy feeling up a flowered bush, Jim got Dwight's attention.

"Oh. My. God!" Jim cried, pointing at the top of a tall, leafy tree. Dwight immediately ditched Michael to come to Jim's aid.

"What's wrong?" Dwight demanded, brandishing his pepper spray.

Jim looked at a tree, rubbed his eyes, and peered at its branches once more. "It's nothing…" he muttered. "I mean, it can't be, but I just…I think…no, I _swear_ I saw a Nargle in that tree!"

Dwight looked dumbstruck. "A Nargle?"

Wide eyes fixed on the tree, Jim nodded gravely. "A Nargle."

Dwight snorted. "Like in _Harry Potter_?"

"Exactly."

"That's ridiculous!" Dwight scoffed. "There's no such thing as Nargles! Wizards don't _actually_ exist, Jim, J.K. Rowling just made them up!"

Jim rounded on Dwight, affronted. "What do you mean, she made them up?!" he cried.

"Simple, really," Dwight said in an arrogant matter that suggested he'd pondered this notion upon many an occasion. "First, if wizards exist, I'd have received my letter from Hogwarts at the age of 11, because I'm obviously wizard material. No such luck. Also, how could J.K. Rowling know about Harry and He Who Must Not Be Named if she's a Muggle? Muggles aren't supposed to know about wizards."

Jim plastered a look of shock across his features. "I can't believe you don't know! It's all over the internet – J.K. Rowling is a Squib! She knows all about the Boy Who Lived and Voldemort" – Dwight winced and covered his ears – "because her parents are wizards, and she made money off of Muggles by breaching the code of secrecy! _Everyone_ knows that! The Harry Potter books are_ fact_! C'mon, Dwight, I can't believe you didn't _know_ that!"

Dwight went from looking skeptical to looking defensive. "Of course I knew that," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know everything."

"Oh, well that's so lucky," Jim gushed, pretending to be relieved, "because I have no idea what to do if a Nargle attacks. If one falls out of the tree on us, we're dead meat, unless you have a counter attack…."

"Counter attack against what?" Dwight asked anxiously.

Jim looked at Dwight like he had six heads. "I can't believe you don't know," he muttered, shaking his head.

Dwight was really nervous now. "Tell me!" he snapped.

"Nargles…they fall out of trees, onto their victims, and they…they suck out your eyeballs!"

Pam picked this moment to chuck a rock, which landed with a loud "thud" in the bushes behind the tree. Dwight jumped about ten feet in the air and sprinted back to Michael, screaming "A NARGLE FELL OUT OF THAT TREE! A NARGLE FELL OUT OF THAT TREE!" with his hands over his eyes. Dwight seized Michael's hand and dragged him back to the clearing, away from the Nargle-infested trees.

Clutching his sides, which ached from laughing, Jim plopped onto the ground next to Pam, who was beside herself with laughter. Once her giggles had died down to occasional hiccups, she marveled at Jim. "That was – hic! – amazing!" she cried. "Dwight's such a nitwit!"

Jim chuckled. "Nitwit?"

"Shut up," Pam said defensively. "It works for him. He's so gullible! Now he's going to be afraid of standing still and trees!"

"I've done better," Jim said modestly.

"Still!" Pam gushed. "That was awesome! How do you know so much about Harry Potter, anyways?" she wondered.

Jim was suddenly had an even greater appreciation for her blindfold; she couldn't see him blush. "I read," he said.

Pam chortled. "I never would have thought!"

"Anyway," Jim said gruffly, a mite embarrassed, "Let's get cracking on this list. Now we need a red leaf."

"This is so dumb," Pam muttered as Jim helped her to her feet. "And I can't even get this blindfold off, you tied it so tight!"

"Best if you keep it on," Jim said mysteriously, walking backwards a few paces in front of her. "Nargles go for the eyes…."

Pam laughed, and then came to a sudden halt. "Jim? Where am I going?"

"Follow the sound of my voice." Running up the trail a couple of yards, he stood with his back to huge tree, and started to sing 'Lovefool' at the top of his voice.

Laughing, Pam stumbled after him, arms held far in front of her. Finally, she felt her hands hit something hard.

"I think I hit a tree!" she exclaimed, tapping her fist lightly on the hard thing she had come into contact with.

"Nope," said the tree, who wrapped his arms around Pam. "You've hit my chest." And, grinning at the ingenuity of his little trap, Jim leaned down for a kiss.

* * *

Phyllis and Stanley were prying moss off a tree when Phyllis spotted the lip-locked couple. Phyllis squealed. 

"Ooh, Stanley, look!" she began, but Stanley cut her off with a sigh.

"I'm glad I have this blindfold on, Phyllis, 'cause I have no desire to watch Pam and Jim play tonsil tennis."

"How did you know?" Phyllis wondered.

"I'm awesome," Stanley shrugged.

* * *

Jim and Pam broke off their embrace when Michael's voice announced the end of the scavenger hunt. Pam, who had shed her blindfold ages ago, looked up into Jim's hazel eyes. 

"Uh oh," she said.

"You got that right!" he agreed as they walked back towards the clearing, hand in hand. "All we have are these rocks." He gestured at the pile ahead of them.

Pam stopped short in front of the rocks, jerking Jim to a halt beside her. "What's up?" he wondered.

Pam looked from Jim to the rocks and back. "I think Dwight's back pack looked a little light, don't you?"

Jim caught on and grinned. "Absolutely I do!" he said enthusiastically, and they snatched up the rocks to stuff into Dwight's pack.

"He needs to build more muscle," Pam said as a way to justify their prank.

"Sure does take a lot of strength to pry Nargles off your eyeballs."

"And a purple belt just won't cut it."

* * *

Author's Note: A million thanks to Cursive Obsession, whose idea it was to have a prank making Dwight afraid of trees. If anyone else has any prank ideas, let me know, and I'll see if I can fit them into some later chapters. And, as always, reviews are much appreciated! 


	4. What's For Dinner?

Disclaimer: I absolutely do not own The Office.

Author's Note: This chapter is going to be a bit shorter than the others. It's basically here to bridge the gap between the hike and dinner time. As always, reviews and ideas for pranks are more than welcome!

**Chapter 4: What's For Dinner?**

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go!" Andy sang jovially as he led the dispirited employees up the mountain.

"Are we there yet?" Kevin moaned for the umpteenth time.

"Almost," Phyllis replied, whipping out her map. "We only have a few more minutes of walking!"

Everyone cheered, with the exceptions of Michael, who was too busy having the time of his life to want the hike to end, and Andy, who was too busy whistling theme songs from Disney movies to waste his breath on whooping. In the better part of an hour, Andy had sung through most of the hits of the Lion King, Aladdin, and Toy Story, and had just scratched the surface of Snow White.

After winning the scavenger hunt, the small amount of power allotted to Andy by Michael as a prize immediately went to his head. Since then, Andy had called breaks every 20 minutes to engage in "bonding activities," including dodge ball, freeze tag, and rock-paper-scissors – and he had even suggested spin-the-bottle.

Andy's enthusiasm had delighted Michael, who had participated enthusiastically in all of his and Andy's games. But, seeing as all of the Yes-Man's pit stops had caused a would-be four hour hike to drag on for over ten hours, the rest of the Dunder-Mifflinites were _definitely_ not as pleased with the hiking excursion as Michael. The general lack of toleration for the bonding games was clearly demonstrated by the fact that most of the employees had confessed to spending the trip contemplating the best ways to commit suicide on a remote mountain trail.

* * *

"The coolest way to die on a mountain…" Dwight trailed off, stroking his chin pensively. "Probably getting eaten by the people you're traveling with once you get lost and are desperate for food and turn to cannibalism as a last resort." Misinterpreting the camera man's look of disgust as a look of approval, Dwight added smugly, "You asked for cool, I _gave_ you cool!" 

"I think starvation would do me in pretty fast," Kevin informed the camera somberly, stomach growling. "I wonder what's for dinner…."

"Just listening to Andy singing," Karen said promptly. "An hour of 'Lovefool' and I'd be a goner."

* * *

"We're here!" Andy announced, stepping out of the thick woods and into a large clearing. The light of the setting sun that filtered in from the canopy of leaves above was soft and pinkish, reflecting off the surface of the stream that wound its way along the far end of the clearing. A series of several, small log cabins flanked the left side of the camp. Logs surrounded a mammoth fire pit, perched directly in the middle of the camp. Three wooden picnic tables filled the right side of the clearing. Aside from a water pump at the back of the camp site, the area seemed devoid of plumbing. 

The employees dropped their heavy back packs on the ground with a series of groans and muttered curses.

"My bag just felt heavier and heavier as the day went on," Dwight complained, stretching his arms up over his head and twisting to crack his back. "I guess hiking really tired me out."

Pam and Jim exchanged knowing glances. They had, of course, shoved rocks into Dwight's back pack every time the group had stopped to play games. Due to Andy's status as a maniac, the stops had been frequent. Alas, Dwight's bag currently weighed as much as a small lawn mower.

"My feet hurt," Stanley complained.

"What's for dinner?" Kevin wondered.

"I have to pee!" Kelly announced. "Where's the restroom?"

Michael spread his arms wide in a gesture that would have made Moses proud. "Nature is your bathroom, Kelly," he boomed mystically.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Kelly squealed indignantly.

Michael tossed a roll of toilet paper at her. "Watch out for poison ivy," he advised her as she stormed off into the trees. Meredith promptly stopped sipping her drink, choosing sobriety over a full bladder that would, inevitably, lead her into the woods after Kelly.

"This just got so much better," Pam sighed, flopping down onto her back pack.

Jim plopped onto the ground next to her. "At least Andy stopped singing."

This was true; he was now preoccupied with a bit of gum stuck to the bottom of his sneakers.

"I'm thirsty," Pam said absently.

"I've got water." Jim's hand was swallowed by his massive bag, and resurfaced clutching a white water bottle. Before handing her the bottle, he lifted it to his lips and squeezed the bottle, hard. As the contents of the bottle entered his mouth, his eyes widened in shock, and then he spluttered.

"What's wrong?" Pam demanded, concerned, while Jim spat mouthfuls of translucent goop onto the ground.

"Not…water!" Jim choked, now wiping his tongue on the inside of the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Soap!"

* * *

"Soft Soap, to be exact," Dwight informed the camera proudly. The noises of Jim gargling water could be heard in the background while Dwight brandished two very empty bottles of hand soap. "I buy them in bulk at BJs. They have great prices. And the stores are very clean. Like Jim's mouth." 

"Yeah, I think Dwight put the soap in Jim's water bottle," Oscar said, smiling slightly. "Makes sense, after that phone call at the bottom of the mountain – and I think I saw Jim putting rocks in Dwight's bag earlier – but still…I never expected Dwight to seek revenge on Jim for his pranks," Oscar admitted. "I just thought he was a nark, not a retaliation kind of guy."

"When I was a kid, my mom cleaned my mouth out with soap if I said something dirty," Michael told the camera forlornly. "I wouldn't have said 'shit' when I was four if I knew hand sanitizer tasted like that…."

Jim grimaced. "Oh yeah, that soap tasted heavenly. I think it was Milk and Honey. Yum. Way better than Cucumber Melon, in my opinion." Switching from sarcasm to being quite serious, Jim declared with narrowed eyes, "Dwight is _so _going down."

* * *

"So!" Michael quipped upon Kelly's return from the woods. "Everybody pick a little cabin thing to sleep in! I think it's four to a hut." 

People immediately scampered off with their bags to pick their cabins. Jim and Pam ended up in a cabin with Angela and Dwight, and they couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

Once everyone had set up their sleeping bags and air mattresses on the floors of their cabins, the Dunder-Mifflinites congregated around the fire pit. Dwight had already started a roaring fire. The staff plopped down on the logs and chatted, warming their hands, while Dwight poked around in the flames with a stick. Finally, Michael emerged from his cabin, two large grocery bags in his hands.

"Dinner time!" Michael called, raising the bags so everyone could see.

"What's for dinner?" Kevin asked eagerly.

"Squirrels!" Michael chirped gleefully.


	5. Never Ever Have I Ever

Disclaimer: The Office belongs to NBC.

Author's Note: A special thanks again to _Cursive Obsession_ for being awesome and giving me lovely ideas! And thanks to the rest of you who have reviewed – reviews make my day! I'd especially like to know what you think about this chapter, because I think it's a bit different from the others. If you have any ideas or directions in which you want this story to go (because there isn't tons of plot as of yet…), give a shout.

**Chapter 5: Never Ever Have I Ever…**

"What's for dinner?" Kevin asked eagerly.

"Squirrels!" Michael chirped gleefully.

There was an instant uproar.

"We're having _squirrels_ for dinner!?" Angela demanded, repulsed.

"Yes!" Dwight cheered. "Think of all the vitamins!"

"EW!" Kelly squealed.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Stanley roared.

Michael sniggered. "Yeah, Stanley, I am _so_ freaking kidding you!" Everyone stopped complaining, and just looked mad. (Except for Dwight, who looked disappointed.)

"Well, that was dramatic," Jim muttered to Pam, who nodded an agreement.

"What's _really_ for dinner?" Kevin wondered as his stomach emitted another rumbling growl.

"Hot dogs," Michael said.

"Hot dogs?" Angela repeated, still looking disgusted, while Michael distributed skewers and franks to the employees. "Is there a vegetarian option?"

"Grass," Michael replied promptly.

Angela sighed. "I'll just have a bun." She snatched a roll from one of Michael's grocery bags and picked at it angrily while the others stuck their dinners in the fire.

"I think we should play a game while we eat!" Michael suggested.

"No," Stanley said, but Michael continued on as if he hadn't heard Stanley's refusal – or the groans of most of the others.

"How about we play 10 Fingers?!" Michael proposed to the crowd.

"Like…that game ten year old girls play at summer camp?" Phyllis wondered, looking quite apprehensive.

Michael nodded vigorously. "Yeah, it's where you start by holding up all ten of your fingers. Then you say 'never ever have I ever' and followed by something that you've never done before. And if anyone has done the thing you haven't, then they have to put a finger down. The last person to have fingers up wins!"

"I don't think that sounds fun, Michael," Oscar said tentatively.

"Me neither," Kevin agreed.

"Well, you're wrong," Michael spat, his fragile feelings obviously in need of a Band-Aid. "It's the best game ever. Right, Dwight?"

"ABSOLUTELY!" Dwight beamed.

"I think it sounds fun, too, Michael!" Andy said hastily.

Dwight coughed. "Suck up!" he hissed, and coughed again.

"Yeah, well, you suck," Andy retorted.

"Your _mom_ sucks," Dwight came back, unaware of how lame he sounded.

"Your mom's _face _sucks!" Andy cried.

Michael rolled his eyes and interrupted this little exchange with an, "Okay, everybody! Fingers up!" Dwight and Andy glared daggers at each other, but they shut up. Reluctantly, the Dunder-Mifflinites all stuck out their hands, awkwardly attempting to display their fingers and grip skewered hot dogs at the same time.

While struggling to hold his dinner and participate in his game, Michael neglected his hot dog, which proceeded to catch fire. Michael eventually noticed the flaming frankfurter, swore creatively, and dropped the hot dog on his foot. His shoe laces promptly burst into flame.

Several people flew into action at once. Dwight jumped up and down on Michael's foot, so hard that Michael began to yelp in pain, in order to put out the tiny fire. Kevin rushed to rescue the fallen, charred hot dog from the dirt, and cradled it in his hands, mourning the loss of something that once had been edible. Jim yanked a massive jug of wood glue from his bag, and deftly slathered Dwight's place on the log with thick, yellowish paste.

Like Jim, the camera crew also took advantage of the chaos, pulling a few people aside for quick interviews before the camp fire festivities _really_ got going.

* * *

"This isn't as bad as the time that Michael Forman-grilled his foot," Oscar said reasonably. "Michael wasn't burned at all – although Dwight probably crushed his foot – and at least we won't have bits of foot in our hot dogs…those steaks were just nasty." 

"Maybe squirrels would have made less of a mess than hot dogs…" Meredith ventured.

"After all the excitement, there's no _way_ Dwight will notice the glue on his log." Pam sighed. "Jim's so smart…."

"I want to go home," Stanley fumed.

* * *

Pam was right; after several minutes of stomping on Michael's most definitely bruised foot, Dwight slumped onto his log, right in the puddle of glue. Jim and Pam exchanged triumphant grins while Dwight reclined on his log, too tired from vigorous hopping to stand any longer. 

"Seeing as I'm crippled," Michael began, glaring pointedly at Dwight, "I get to start the game." He stuck out his hands again and splayed all his fingers, thinking for a moment. "Oh, I have a great one!" he bragged. "Never ever have I ever done my own laundry."

Every single person put down a finger, slack-jawed and astonished. "How can you have _never_ done your own laundry?" Karen wondered.

"Well, my mom did it for me until I moved out a couple of years ago…and then Ryan did it, and then Dwight."

"You lived with your mom until you bought your condo?" Jim asked, even though he'd already figured out the answer.

"I…well…no, not exactly…I mean…okay, Dwight, your turn!" Michael stuttered.

Jim tilted his head slightly and threw the camera one of his patented smirks.

Dwight, sitting to Michael's right, said pensively, "Never ever have I ever…flossed my teeth!"

Again, everyone put down a finger, but didn't press the matter. They were all too grossed out to discuss Dwight's inadequate dental hygiene. Angela, looking alarmed, touched a finger to her lips, and then studied Dwight's rather yellow smile. She grimaced.

"Jim's turn," Dwight said, looking to his right. Jim sat next to Pam on a log adjacent to his boss's.

Jim didn't even have to think about his statement, but quickly said, "Never ever have I ever eaten a squirrel."

Dwight put one of his fingers down, but defended himself immediately. "Fact: Squirrels are nutritious, Jim! You told me that yourself, on our first day of work! You said you ate them all the time, and that I should try them!"

"Yeah, Dwight, um…_sarcasm_, buddy." Jim gave him an impish grin.

Dwight looked crushed.

The game continued on like this for a while. Eventually, it was down to Michael, Pam, Angela, and Phyllis, all of whom had never mowed the lawn, played hopscotch, or been streaking.

* * *

"I think Phyllis will dominate," Andy said. "She plays to win. Seriously. 'Never ever have I been to Cornell?' I wonder who she was targeting with _that _one!" He was silent for a second, and then looked positively shocked at something the camera man had said to him. "What do you mean, you have no idea who she was targeting?! Me! She targeted me! _I_ WENT TO CORNELL, YOU IDIOT!" 

"I don't think Angela will win, because she may be a Christian, but…" — Dwight waggled his eyebrows and looked at the camera coyly – "…she's done some _interesting_ stuff."

"I got out because I've toilet papered a house before, and Michael hadn't. I seriously doubt whether Michael had friends when he was growing up," Toby said. "I mean, _I've _TP'd a house. _Me_. Toby! And Michael hasn't! No wonder he doesn't like me," Toby joked, unusually perky. "He's just jealous!"

* * *

Angela skipped back to her tent to find Dwight, uncharacteristically happy after winning 10 Fingers. Fortunately, no one had brought up any weird sexual stuff, and she had scraped by with just one finger left. Dwight had stood up after losing all ten fingers, but the seat of his khakis had stayed stuck to the log. He'd hurried away amid tumultuous laughter to change his pants, hands clasped over his bottom in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his purple, beet-printed boxers from his coworkers. Although Angela had felt bad for him, she had waited out the game (and won!) before going to find him, so as to be inconspicuous. 

"D!" she called, mounting the steps to the cabin. "D, guess what! I won!"

She pushed open the door, but Dwight was no where to be found. Instead, she saw Pam on her knees in front of Jim, her head level with his belt. Jim was looking down at her with his hands on his hips.

"Come on, Beesly, just finish it already!" he moaned impatiently.

Angela gasped, and rushed out of the tent before they could say anything. She stood on the other side of the door for a moment, hand over her racing heart, before hurrying off to find Dwight and tell of the unspeakable act that she had just witnessed.

* * *

"What was that about?" Jim wondered. 

Pam finished tying his shoe for him and stood up. "I've no idea," she replied. "But Angela looked pretty freaked out. Like we were doing something…dirty."

"Everything is dirty to Angela."

"That's true." Pam grabbed the bug spray out of her bag, which was the item they had returned to the tent for in the first place. "How's your shoe?"

"Nice and tight. I'd expect as much, seeing as you took six years to tie it."

"Hey! Maybe next time you should just do it yourself!"

"That's what she said!"

Pam smacked him lightly. "That's not funny! Don't start acting like Michael, or else we'll all be doomed!"

Jim grinned. "Let's get back to the fire. It's finally dark, so Michael will want to toast marshmallows now. If we linger any longer, people will be wondering what we've been up to."

"Just wait two minutes while I put on my bug spray!" Pam said.

OoOoOoOoO

Angela found the sulking Dwight leaning against the edge of their cabin, his pants changed, his arms crossed, and his demeanor sullen. He had drawn another mountain tiger circle around himself in the dirt.

"D!" she gasped, hurrying over to face him. Her mood had changed from happy to panicky. "Dwight, you won't believe what I just saw!"

He suddenly went from being depressed to being concerned. "Monkey, are you okay?! Did you see a Nargle?! Or a mountain tiger?! GET IN MY CIRCLE AND COVER YOUR EYES!"

"No, it's not either of those things! So much worse! I saw…I saw…" and she whispered what she (thought she) had seen in Dwight's ear.

Dwight perked up immediately. "This is fantastic!" Dwight said, but Angela looked dumbfounded. She'd obviously expected him to be grossed out, much like she was. "Pam giving Jim a…well…you know!...in their cabin, that's completely inappropriate! Now we can use this information against them!"

"Like black mail?" Angela said disapprovingly. "Black mail is wrong, Dwight."

"Yeah, well, after all of the pranks Jim has played on me today" – Dwight indicated the seat of his trousers angrily – "I owe him big time. The soap prank? That was _nothing._ I will get him tonight, and he will cry, and I will laugh, and everything will be right in the world!" he finished fiercely.

Angela sighed, and reached up to entwine her arms around his neck. "I _love_ when you get passionate about things," she breathed, and then she attacked his lips with her own. She'd obviously forgotten her earlier disgust with Dwight's unnatural flossing habits.

Pam and Jim chose this moment to exit the cabin. Rounding the corner to go back to the fire, they stumbled upon Dwight and Angela's intense embrace. Pam gasped, and the two sprang apart with a nasty suctioning noise. Dwight looked embarrassed, but Angela looked downright terrified.

"Don't tell anyone!" she pleaded with Jim and Pam.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I don't know…" he said. "This is an office relationship, and we all know that these have to be disclosed to HR…I should really tell Toby…."

"No!" Dwight said hastily.

"How about we make a deal?" Angela pleaded frantically. "We won't tell about what you two were just doing in the cabin if you don't tell about Dwight and me!"

"Do you accept?" Dwight demanded.

Out of pure habit, Jim said, "Absolutely I do." Going along with Jim, Pam nodded. Neither had any idea what Angela had caught them doing that was so bad, but were happy to humor the odd couple.

"Thank you! Now we're even!" Angela gushed, and Dwight seemed to sag a bit with relief. Shooting Jim and Pam one last furtive glance each, they scurried off to their respective places around the fire. After sharing one last confused look, Jim and Pam followed.

* * *

"Yes, I'm upset that I've lost my chance to black mail Jim," Dwight admitted to the camera, "but keeping our relationship a secret makes my monkey happy, and I'd give up anything to bring her joy. Even black mail. Or my purple belt." 

"I have absolutely no idea what Angela thought we were doing in our cabin that was so bad," Pam said. "I mean…I was tying Jim's shoe…does she think it's unsanitary to touch other peoples' feet? I just don't get it…I guess I might was well forget about it, now that we're 'even' or whatever…." Pam shrugged and grabbed another marshmallow. The she shuddered. "Sorry, the image of Angela trying to suck Dwight's face off popped into my head again…ugh, I'm going to have night mares…."

Jim raised his eyebrows at the camera. "Never ever have I ever…seen something…so disgusting."


	6. Marshmallow Madness

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: A million thanks to those of you who have reviewed! I got some positive feedback about the Dwangela in the last chapter, so I decided to bring that up again. And if you've read the past five author's notes, you know how much I like reviews. Wink. Wink.

**Chapter 6: Marshmallow Madness**

"Now that everyone is present," Michael said, shooting a frustrated glance at Jim, who had just finally sat down with a speared marshmallow, "we can start the next game!"

"Another?"

"Yes, Toby, another. And try not to be such a party pooper, you…party pooper," Michael said, peeved. Toby picked at his golden brown marshmallow forlornly.

"Since we didn't have a chance earlier," Michael continued, "I think we should play spin-the-bottle!"

"NO!" the employees chorused.

"Fine!" Michael huffed, allowing his marshmallow to catch fire. He brandished his flaming treat at the crowd. "One of you suggest a game, then!"

"I have an idea!" Phyllis said.

"What?" Angela demanded.

"I…well, I thought that…never mind, it's stupid…" Phyllis said, staring nervously at her lap. Angela sighed.

"I have a great one," Kevin announced.

"Let's hear it, Kev," Jim prompted.

"Truth" – Kevin flicked his eyes left, then right, then forward – "or _dare_."

"Yes! Kevin! Coming alive! I like the way you think!" Michael said, suddenly happy again.

"An excellent suggestion!" Andy boomed, eager to be on Michael's good side.

* * *

"Ohmygod!" Kelly babbled super fast. "I just _love_ truth or dare! It's so totally _awe_-suuum! We played it all the time at sleepovers when I was a kid, and one time, this ugly girl, who I really hated, but I felt bad for because she looked so gross and had no friends, she dared me to say, 'Tom Cruise is hotter than Brad Pitt,' which is _so _obviously not true, and it took me _so _much courage to say it! It was _so_ bad, but sooooo _awe_-suuum! Kind of like those Disney movies that are made for TV – you hate them while you watch but you just can't get enough!" Kelly giggled merrily and flashed the camera a toothy smile. 

"Well, I did okay at the finger game, so maybe truth or dare won't be that bad," Phyllis said quietly. She looked at her lap again. "Anyway, it's a better game than I had in mind…."

"Bring on the dares," Andy said pompously. "I'm the Dare Man, the Dare Meister, the…_Dare-inator_."

Stanley didn't even look at the camera; he was too busy working on one of his cross word puzzles. "I still want to go home," he said flatly.

* * *

"Pretty please with sugar on top can we play truth or dare?" Michael begged his reluctant coworkers. 

"Only if there are no inappropriate dares," Jim said. There was a general muttering of agreement, and Michael beamed.

"Yay!" he said.

"Kevin should go first," Karen suggested, "since he thought up the game and all."

Michael agreed. "Okay, Kevin, ask someone!"

Kevin turned to Jim. He smirked. "Truth or dare, Jim?"

"Truth."

Kevin sniggered. "Who do you think is hotter – Pam or Karen?"

The silence that followed the question was tense and awkward. Jim, Pam, and Karen all stared at each other with eyes the size of dinner plates. Kevin nodded slowly, a toothless grin on his chubby face.

Jim cleared his throat. "Between Pam and Karen…_Kevin _is definitely hottest."

Everyone except Kevin looked relieved as Jim tactfully side-stepped what would definitely have been a crisis. Kevin just looked confused.

"But I wasn't an option, Jim."

Jim smiled at him. "I know, but you're just a total babe, Kev." Jim winked at him. "Hotter than any women. The unspoken third choice."

Kevin gave Jim a double thumbs up. "Niiiice."

* * *

"Which of the two is hotter?" Michael repeated back to the camera. "Uhhh, hello! Pam! Obviously!" 

"Definitely Pam," Toby sighed, a dreamy expression on his face.

"Is Kevin still an option?" Oscar asked. He smiled. "Just kidding."

* * *

"Jim's turn!" Michael crowed. 

Jim turned to Dwight. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Dwight stared Jim down, straight-faced and ready for the worst to come.

"I dare you to…sing 'Happy Birthday' to me every time somebody sneezes during the game."

The employees laughed. Not only was this a creative, harmless dare, but Creed currently suffered a bit of a head cold.

Dwight looked a bit relieved. "That's it?"

"That's it," Jim concluded.

* * *

"Why didn't I dare Dwight to do something more embarrassing?" Jim repeated back to the camera. "Well, streaking was out of the question, because I just ate. And I've already witnessed enough of Dwight kissing to provide me with a lifetime of nightmares. Plus, this dare will make it seem like it's my birthday every time somebody sneezes." Jim grinned. "Better Dwight singing than Andy." 

Dwight looked impressed. "I thought Jim would jump on the chance to make me do something stupid when I didn't have a choice. I never turn down dares. But that…" he looked pensive, "…_that_ was an _easy_ one." Dwight furrowed his eyebrows.

"Jim was nice to Dwight!" Michael chirped. "My bonding trip was a HUGE SUCCESS!"

* * *

"My turn," Dwight declared. "Angela, truth or dare?" 

Angela thought it over. "Dare," she said firmly.

"I dare you to kiss me," he said quickly.

The group watched agape while Angela crossed the circle, leaned down, and pecked Dwight lightly on the cheek. Both were blushing, but appeared extremely satisfied. The Dunder-Mifflinites were shocked. Pam and Jim turned to each other, downright horrified.

* * *

"This has just been a sick night," Pam moaned. 

"What. The. HELL!?" Jim complained.

"Poor Dwight," Oscar said. "He's so desperate, he asked _Angela_ to kiss him. The guy must not get any action to want _that_ to put its lips on him!"

* * *

Angela, unusually flushed and fluttery, looked tentatively around the circle. "Karen!" she said, and Karen jumped a bit, startled. "Truth or dare?" 

"Er, truth?"

"You know that green lingerie that you bought at Victoria's Secret when Michael took us out?"

Karen blushed furiously, but nodded. Kevin leaned closer to Stanley. "Green lingerie?" he whispered in his coworker's ear. "Ow ow!"

"Well," Angela continued, "did you ever wear it for Jim?" Her tone of voice suggested that she disapproved of wearing bright undergarments, especially in front of other people.

"Um…I…" Karen stammered. "Yeah." She stared at her hands, so embarrassed that her ears had turned the bright pink hue of her face. Pam was glaring at Jim with narrowed eyes, who was putting classic, wide-eyed, innocent stare to good use.

The atmosphere was tense.

Creed sneezed.

"Happy birthday to Jim! Happy birthday to Jim! Happy birthday to JAAAAAAY-AAAAAAMES!" Dwight bellowed, jumping off of his log. "Happy birthday tooooo YOUUUUUUU!" He bowed and sat back down.

Glad for a distraction from the uncomfortable reality of Karen and Jim's underwear escapades, the whole group clapped and cheered for Dwight as he resumed the toasting of his ninth marshmallow.

"Karen's turn," he informed everyone with his mouth full.

"Truth or dare, Andy?" asked a disheartened Karen.

Andy was psyched. "DARE!"

"I dare you to…go jump into that stream."

Andy leaped to his feet and saluted Karen. "I'm on it!" He sprinted towards the far side of the camp ground. Creed sneezed again, and by the time Dwight had finished anther rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday,' Andy had returned to the fire, sopping wet.

Andy squelched over to his log and sat down, leaving puddles in his wake. His lips were blue. "That was _cold_!" he said happily. "Okay, my turn! Michael, truth or dare?!"

Dwight frowned at Andy as Michael said, "Truth!"

"What's more important to you – good farming skills and a purple belt or a fantastic singing voice and impeccable ivy-league educational background?"

"Erm," said his befuddled boss, "the second part?"

Andy shot Dwight a triumphant look.

"MY TURN!" Michael roared, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for an opportunity to ask someone 'truth or dare.' "Pam!" he said, and Pam cringed. "Truth or dare?!"

"Dare?" she said hesitantly.

"I dare you to take your shirt off!"

Pam's mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Okay, game's over!" Jim announced, helping Pam up from the log. The rest of the employees stood as well, shaking their heads and looking as if they had expected such a thing to happen sooner.

"See you in the morning," Michael called sadly after everyone as they left for their respective cabins. Dwight walked Michael to his cabin in order to console him.

"It'll happen eventually," he tried to cheer up his friend.

Michael pouted, dejected. "It's what I wished for after I blew the candles out on my last birthday, and yet…she's still _very_ clothed."

Dwight patted his arm kindly. "Sometimes, Michael, when you believe in them with all your heart…dreams really _do _come true."

* * *

Angela waited outside of her cabin for Dwight to return. When he showed up, she pulled him around the back so that they were out of sight. 

"That was a bit bold of you!" she said in reference to Dwight's dare.

"I know it was a bit brazen, my monkey, but…you just looked so lovely in the firelight…even more beautiful than Princess Leia…and I just had to feel your lips upon my face."

Angela swooned. "Oh, D!"

And again with the snogging.

* * *

"Wow, Jim, green lingerie? _Really_?" 

Jim shot her an apologetic look as he pulled on his pajamas. "It was a long time ago. And your taste in underwear is better."

Satisfied, Pam changed the subject. "And I can't _believe_ Michael!" she fumed, pulling on her own pajamas. "I mean…honestly! He's just so rude!"

Jim slipped into his sleeping bag. "You can't blame him for wanting to see you shirtless."

"Jim!" she cried, taken aback.

Jim grinned. "I really do think you should follow through with that dare, Beesly…."

Pam's mouth made an O. She stared at Jim for a second, and then she was beating upon him with her pillow.

"You" – _smack_ – "are" – _smack_ – "a" – _smack _– "LOSER!" she cried, while Jim, laughing, huddled in his sleeping bag with his arms over his head to block the blows. Also laughing, Pam dropped the pillow and plunked down next to him, catching her breath. Eventually, she slipped into her own sleeping bag and rested her head on her bent arms. Jim copied her and faced her.

"I was only kidding," he said.

Pam grinned mischievously. "No you weren't."

Jim sighed, his eyes twinkling impishly. "You know me too well."


	7. Operation Retaliation

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: This is a short chapter, and I know that the prank they pull could _never_ work in real life, but this is fan fiction, people, so bear with me here. ; )

**Chapter 7: Operation Retaliation**

"Ouch! Jim! That was my foot!" Pam hissed.

"Sorry, Beesly!" he whispered back. "I can't find my flashlight – oh wait! Got it!"

The light flickered on, illuminating Pam's face. "What time is it?"

He aimed the light at his watch. "4:00 am. We should get the signal soon."

"You're sure they're going to follow through?"

"Oh yeah. Toby, Phyllis, and Kevin are complete supporters of Operation Retaliation. I double checked last night before we went back to the cabins."

They were quiet for a minute or two while they pulled on sweatshirts and sneakers. Pam pocketed her own flashlight and tied her hair out of her face. Finally, she spoke again.

"Why didn't you name any of our other plans, Jim?"

"Because this one is the sneakiest."

"And why did you name the plan 'Operation Retaliation?'"

"Because it rhymes," he said matter-of-factly.

"Jim, you do know that's a really stupid name for a plan, right?"

"Yup."

"And you do know that this is a fairly ridiculous? And I probably should never have suggested it?"

"Oh yeah, I'm well aware."

He flashed his light back on her face just in time to catch her grin. "This is going to be_ so_ awesome!"

"You sound like Kelly."

There was a sudden crash outside the cabin. Somebody swore loudly as twigs snapped and leaves rustled. Dwight stirred on his small air mattress and muttered something about bobble head dolls. Angela snuggled closer to her pillow. Jim and Pam held their breath, praying that they wouldn't wake up, but both continued to snore.

Pam exhaled quietly. "That was a close one!" she said.

There was a knock on the door. Jim tip toed over and stuck his lips right next to the door frame. "Who is it?" he hissed.

"That's what she said," was the reply.

"It's them!" Pam whispered excitedly. "That's the signal!"

Jim opened the door slowly so as to avoid making any noise. Phyllis, Kevin, and Toby huddled together on the stoop of the cabin, each brandishing a flashlight.

"Sorry we're late," said Toby softly. "Kevin tripped."

"We heard," Jim remarked with a slight smile.

"It's hard to see tree roots at night time!" Kevin defended himself. "I wasn't too loud, was I?"

"Not at all," Pam reassured him, joining them on the steps. "Both Dwight and Angela are fast asleep."

"You're sure they won't wake up?" said Phyllis.

Jim shined the flashlight onto Dwight and Angela. Angela was curled into the fetal position, and Dwight snored on his back. Both slept with ear plugs and sleeping masks. "I'm sure," Jim told Phyllis. "They fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows, and they only stirred when Kevin tripped."

Kevin smiled apologetically.

Phyllis, looking reassured, dug in her pocket and produced her map once more. She held it out so everyone could see, and traced a short path with her pinky finger. "See this trail here? I scouted it out, and it's wide enough to fit us all. Plus, it's wicked short. It leads to a pond, and I found out from Michael that he plans on conducting our morning bonding session on the beach."

"Phyllis," Jim said with a broad smile, "you are my hero."

Phyllis beamed proudly.

"Okay!" Jim said. "Let's get this party started!"

Phyllis propped open the door and held a flashlight while the others each stood at a corner of Dwight's air mattress. They squatted down and grabbed a corner each.

"On the count of three…" Pam whispered. "One…two…three!"

They all hefted the mattress, and, huffing a bit, lifted Dwight and his bed into the air. They paused for a moment to make sure Dwight wouldn't wake up before moving towards the door. As quietly as possible, so as to not wake up Angela, they maneuvered the air mattress down the steps. Phyllis shut the door carefully behind them. Quickly, she scurried over to all of the other cabins, double checking that the other employees and the camera crew were still asleep. Satisfied, she returned and used he flashlight to light the way to the trail at the back of the camp.

After a short walk through the woods, the group ended up on a long strip of sand. Phyllis shined her flashlight so that the Jim, Pam, Kevin, and Toby could see the water's edge. Silently, they lowered Dwight and his mattress to the ground, the side of the mattress closest to Dwight's feet just barely in contact with the water.

"He needs to lose weight," Kevin huffed. "That was some heavy lifting."

They quickly stripped off their socks and shoe and rolled up their pants. Slowly and quietly, they pushed the mattress until it was floating away from the beach in knee deep water. Phyllis came to join them at the edge of the pond. Together they watched Dwight's mattress meander towards the middle of the tiny pond in triumphant silence. Kevin grinned toothlessly at each of his cohorts.

"Okay, I need a high five right now!" he exclaimed. Laughing softly, the group slapped hands with Kevin. Toby did a little victory dance. Jim slung his arm around Pam's shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

Jim addressed his coworkers. "Thanks for helping out, you guys! Pam suggested we try this on Thursday, but we weren't sure if we would be able to pull it off. It takes a lot of effort to heave a grown man and his bed through the woods."

"Don't mention it," Toby said as they pulled on their shoes and headed back to the clearing.

"Dwight is such a pain," Phyllis said. "And it's fun to tease him."

"How'd you think of this, anyways?" Kevin wondered.

"Remember when we were playing Desert Island last year, after the fire?" Kevin, Phyllis, and Toby nodded. "Well, I never got to say what my favorite movie was, but it's…well…" she trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"Her favorite movie is The Parent Trap, the one with Lindsay Lohan?"

Kevin giggled. "Good thing you didn't have a chance to say that one during the fire, Pam, 'cause people totally would have made fun of you!"

"Thanks, Kevin."

"Anyways," Jim continued, "Pam made me watch it, and towards the end, the twins are camping and they set their possible-future-step-mother afloat on her air mattress, just like this."

"I can't wait for him to wake up!" Pam said as they entered the camp ground.

Jim checked his watch. "It's 4:30 am, so Michael will probably wake us up soon to go to the beach, and we can see if he freaks out."

"He'd better freak out," Kevin said. "It's so much fun when he goes ballistic."

"See you in a couple of hours!" Phyllis said as she, Toby, and Kevin entered their cabin. Pam and Jim waved and went to their own cabin, where Angela snored peacefully.

"What are we going to tell Angela when she wakes up and finds that Dwight is gone?" Pam wondered as she got back into her sleeping bag.

"That the thirteen marshmallows Dwight ate last night disagreed with him?"

"Sounds plausible."


	8. Free Willy

Disclaimer: Not mine. (If you're bored of seeing the same disclaimer at the top of almost every chapter, try reading this one with a Scottish accent. Not only does it provide variation, but it's quite fun. Unless you're from Scotland….)

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up…I had a hard time writing it and I don't think it's exactly up to par, but I'll put it out there anyway and see what you think. Hopefully, if it stinks, I can redeem myself in the next chapter. And if it doesn't stink...phew.

**Chapter 8: Free Willy**

Oscar privileged the camera with a nice view of his tonsils. "It is way too early to be a-a-a-" – he yawned again – "-wake. And Dwight will show up eventually. Just cherish the time we have without him…."

"I don't care where we're going. I just want to find Dwight." Angela walked stiffly down the shaded trail, too nervous to look at the camera. "When I woke up, all his bedding was gone and Jim said that he had left around midnight, feeling sick from all those marshmallows…he didn't want to sleep in the cabin with us any more, in case he vomited…I warned him not to eat too many…they always make him nauseous later…."

Pam bit her lip in a futile attempt to conceal a smile. "I have no clue where we're headed or where Dwight is." She raised her eyebrows at something the camera man said. "I'm not lying!" She hid a grin behind her hand. "I'm a terrible liar. It'd be so obvious if I was fibbing." She full on beamed at the camera.

* * *

Angela plucked anxiously at the sleeve of Michael's jacket. "Where are we going?"

"Stop pestering me, Angela!" Michael snapped. "We're almost there."

"Jim said Dwight woke up in the middle of the night and felt sick, so he slept elsewhere. I looked, but he's not on or in the woods around the campsite! Will he be able to find us?"

"I'm sure he'll have no problem locating us," Jim said.

Angela looked hopeful. "Really?"

"Definitely," Jim reassured her. "If Dwight was queasy, he wouldn't have been able to wander too far, especially carrying a blown up air mattress."

"He didn't tell you where he was going last night?"

"Nope, and I didn't have time to ask. He just barged right out, one hand on his mouth, the other on his mattress."

Michael interrupted Jim's stream of impromptu lies. "We're here! We're here!"

"Wow! A pond!" Andy whooped. "There's even an _island_ in the middle!"

He pointed to a blob in the center of the pond. Everyone followed his finger with their gazes. Angela screamed.

"THAT'S NO ISLAND! THAT'S DWIGHT!"

Upon hearing Angela shriek, Dwight jerked wide awake. He looked around blearily for a second before realizing he wasn't in a cabin. Dwight panicked and bolted upright like a jack-in-the-box. Yelling, he scrambled to his feet. His legs got tangled in his sleeping bag; he waved his arms frantically to keep his balance, but lost his battle with gravity, tipping sideways into the glassy water. Angela screamed again and clutched at her face as Dwight splashed noisily into the pond.

By the time Dwight had resurfaced, spluttering and flailing his arms, everyone but Angela was beside themselves with laughter.

"MAN OVERBOARD!" Creed hollered.

"He's gonna be wet…_and_ covered in water!" Michael joked.

Karen used her sleeve to wipe tears of joy from her eyes. "How the hell did he end up in a lake?"  
"Pond," Andy corrected, clutching a stitch in his side.

"Whatever," she giggled.

"I think I'm going to pee my pants!" Kevin announced, laughing uproariously.

Pam and Jim slapped five.

As soon as Dwight scrambled onto the beach, he bee lined for Jim.

"_You_," he uttered fiercely. He shook a dripping finger in Jim's direction. "YOU! You did this!"

"Did what?" Jim said innocently.

"THIS!" hollered Dwight. He gestured ferociously at his floating mattress. "You put my bed in a pond!"

"That's impossible," Jim said. "I didn't even know there was a pond here; Michael kept it a secret."

"And how could he have lifted you _and _your bed?" Pam added.

Dwight rounded on her. "I bet you helped! You always help Jim! Since you're always like" – Dwight put on a high falsetto – "_Ooooh, Jim! I love you Jim! Ooooh, Jim, let's get married and have lots and lots of ugly babies!_"

"Pam doesn't have a high voice like that, Dwight," said Phyllis.

"Yeah, well, their babies would still be ugly, so –"

Michael cut Dwight off. "Enough! I have no idea how this happened, because Jim said you were blowing chunks in the woods this morning, but here you are dripping wet in your underwear on the beach of my secret pond. And since we've established that Jim couldn't have stuck you and your bed in a pond all on his lonesome, you probably just sleep walked or something."

"_Sleep walked_?" Dwight roared. "Michael, what you're saying makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE! How could I sleepwalk and bring my mattress_ and_ my sleeping bag along? And I never told Jim I was sick!"

"Uh, yeah, you did," said Jim. "Last night. You probably just don't remember because you were really sleepwalking. I guess I didn't notice you were actually asleep when you were talking to me because I was so tired."

"This still makes no sense, Michael!"

Toby winked at Jim. "Actually, Michael makes perfect sense," he said.

Michael shot Toby a confused glance before turning back to Dwight. "See, Dwight? Toby agrees with me, which is something he never does, so…either he's running a dangerously high fever or you walk in your sleep." Michael stuck his palm on Toby's forehead. "Regular temperature…Dwight sleep walks," he confirmed.

"How could I carry my mattress to a pond I didn't know existed _in my sleep_?" Dwight demanded angrily.

"Well, you are a purple belt," said Jim.

"That means you're strong," Kevin added.

"And you have an impeccable sense of direction," said Phyllis, "living on a farm in the middle of nowhere and all."

Dwight went from furious to skeptical. "Still, none of this really fits together…I've never sleep walked before…."

"You don't know that," said Pam. "I mean, you've probably sleep walked tons of times, but you just ended up back in your bed and never knew."

Dwight scowled, but didn't argue. Jim smirked at the camera.

"Okay, so now that we have Dwight, let's play a bonding game!" Michael twittered.

"But I'm in my underwear," Dwight protested.

"Yeah, good point…" Michael replied, looking pointedly at anything but Dwight's soggy boxer shorts.

"Actually," Jim said, digging in his bag. "I have an extra change of clothes on me." He produced a shirt, pants, and boxers.

"Why are my clothes in your bag, Jim?" Dwight demanded.

Jim didn't miss a beat. "I like the way they smell."

"You smell my clothes?" said Dwight.

"Yeah," said Jim. "I'm just addicted to the scent of mildew."

Dwight snatched his clothes and trotted over to a bunch of trees to get dressed. Michael snorted. He then proceeded to conveniently put the matter of Dwight's nautical experiences out of his mind. The perpetrators were officially off the hook, without suffering more than fury and skepticism from Dwight.

* * *

"Nice." Kevin drew out the single syllable good and long for the camera.

"We did it! We did it!" Toby and Phyllis chanted at the camera.

Pam giggled. "He was still wearing his beet patterned boxer shorts. We got him so good!"

Jim bowed, grinning proudly.

"Dwight is so dumb," Michael said. "He sleep walked right into a pond that he didn't even know was there…wow."

Fully dressed, Dwight frowned at the camera. "I can't believe I sleep walk…I'll have to start locking myself into my bedroom at night…and maybe wear a straight jacket…you know, to protect people from my self…." He gazed absently into space for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and joining the rest of the group.

* * *

"Game time!" Michael crowed upon Dwight's return.

"Can we eat first?" Kevin asked.

Michael sighed. "Why are you always hungry?"

Kevin shrugged.

Michael sighed again, but dug sixteen mini boxes of Fruit Loops out of his bag all the same. He chucked them at his coworkers. "Dig in!"

"Michael, do you have any other kinds of cereal?" Angela eyed her colorful breakfast suspiciously.

"Nope," Michael replied. "Fruit Loops are the best cereal in the world! Eating other kinds of cereal…well, Angela, that's…a sin." He snorted.

Angela frowned at the slight to her holiness. "Do you have milk, Michael?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Bowls?"

"Negative."

"Spoons?"

"You wish."

Angela glowered at him and tore open her package of sugar cereal with more force than necessary.

"Okay!" Michael cried a couple of minutes and three boxes of cereal later. He tossed his empty breakfast containers back into his bag. "Everybody sit facing me!" Michael detached himself from the group, standing with his back to the water and his front to the trees. The still-hungry employees stowed their mostly untouched breakfasts in Michael's back pack before plopping onto the soft sand in front of their boss.

Michael said, "We're going to play…drum roll please!"

Dwight patted his hands on his thighs and said, "Dadadada!" like a drum, but the rest feigned stupid.

"'Drum roll please'?" Jim repeated. "How do you play that game?"

"I've never heard of it before," Pam said innocently.

Michael frowned. "That's not what I…I meant, like what Dwight is doing…so that I could announce that the game is…never mind."

"Wait," Jim said, pretending to be confused. "The game's called 'Never Mind' now?"


	9. Hopelessly Devoted

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: Thanks very much to those who have reviewed! So, I was thinking of adding a couple more chapters, but I'm not sure what you want to see before I wrap this puppy up. More Jam? More Dwangela? More pranks? More games? Give a shout if you have an opinion.

**Chapter 9: Hopelessly Devoted**

Michael narrowed his eyes at his coworkers, who obviously delighted in giving him such a hard time. "We're playing charades," he said with out much feeling.

"WOW! CHARADES?!" Dwight cried. "Cool!"

"I freaking _own_ that game," Andy bragged.

"Yeah?" Michael challenged, suddenly enthusiastic once more. "Well, you better bring your A-game, Bernard, because I am going to kick some ass. I take improv classes, so…I'm awesome," he finished after a very long pause. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Michael half-smiled in a smug manner that did his Biggie Sized ego justice.

"Is this mandatory?" Stanley grumbled.

"At this point, do you even have to ask?" said Meredith rhetorically. She took an extra big gulp of her drink.

"I get to be up first," Michael said, "because I'm the World's Best Boss!"

Jim murmured to Pam, "_Self-proclaimed_ World's Best Boss."

"Ready?" Michael said.

The general consensus amounted to "Yeah."

Michael beamed at everyone. Sealing his lips tightly, he made a point of "locking" them. After chucking the key over his shoulder, Michael slapped his hands together like he was praying.

"Are you Angela?" Oscar joked. Angela scowled.

Michael smiled, but shook his head. He opened his hands so that they were flat, but his pinky fingers were still touching. He pretended to read his splayed palms, which obviously represented a book.

"Are you saying it's a movie?" Jim said. Catching onto Jim's fake obliviousness, the majority decided to play along.

"A TV show?" asked Pam. Vigorously shaking his head, Michael opened and closed his hinged hands meaningfully.

"A person?" Karen ventured.

Michael stomped up and down impatiently. He continued to flap his hands.

"It's a book!" Michael pointed at Dwight and nodded enthusiastically. "It's a book! I got it right," Dwight bragged. "Who owns charades _now_, Andy?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know," Andy quipped. "Your _mom_?"

Jim interrupted the lame exchange. "I can't believe you've read a book before, Michael," he said conversationally. "I thought you stuck to _Maxim_."

Michael glared at him.

"How many words?" said Meredith.

Michael held out two fingers.

"Okay," said Kelly. "It's a book with two words in the title…so do one of the words!"

Michael shook his head and held up two fingers again.

"Both words at once?" said Creed.

Michael grinned and bobbed his head.

"Act it out, Michael, act it out!" Dwight cried.

Grinning evilly, Michael pointed at Meredith.

"Slutty?" said Creed. He winked at Meredith, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Michael shook one of his open hands back and forth gently, as if to say, "Sort of."

Next he pointed at Kelly.

"Annoying?" Stanley drawled.

"Hey!" squealed an offended Kelly.

Again, Michael shook his head. Finished with the discreet hints, he dove right into the plot of his book. Mouth wide in a kind of silent moan, Michael proceeded to mime a wide variety of profane activities. Minutes passed in stunned silence before someone in his repulsed audience spoke up.

"Looks like something nasty out of the _Kama Sutra_." Pam grimaced as Michael performed unspeakable acts to some water reeds.

Michael released the vegetation and jumped up and down joyously. "You got it, Pam, you got it!"

She blanched. "The book was the _Kama Sutra_?"

* * *

"I _knew_ he didn't really read," Jim informed the camera lightly.

"Of course I've read the _Kama Sutra_," Dwight said indignantly upon questioning from the camera man. "It's one of Dan Brown's better stories, if you ask me."

A degree of disgust still evident in her voice and expression, Pam said, "Never again in my life will I look at a water reed without thinking of Michael doing…nasty things. Meaning: all my future beach experiences will be tainted from here on out. Ugh…."

"Ah, yes, the _Kama Sutra_," said Meredith dreamily. "One of my all time favorite bedtime stories…."

"Now I know why he pointed at me…" Kelly sighed.

* * *

Still chuckling at his own imitations of…well…stuff, Michael sat cross-legged on the sand between Dwight and Andy. "Pam's turn!"

"I don't want to," said Pam bluntly.

"Well, you guessed, so get on up there, Pam-a-lam-a-ding-dong!"

Pam frowned at the use of the annoying nick-name, but grudgingly took the place Michael had recently vacated at the head of the group. She thought for a moment. Abruptly, her face lit up. A bit more enthusiastic than before, she pointed at herself.

"A person," Toby said. "How many words?"

Pam held up two fingers. She then made a closed fist before flashing the same two fingers at the Dunder-Mifflinites once more.

"Two words, and you're going to act out the second word?" Toby clarified.

Pam nodded. Taking a deep breath, she mimed folding clothes and stuffing them into a suitcase.

"Taking off clothes? Stripper!" Michael said promptly. "Ben Franklin?"

Pam looked at him darkly before creasing another pretend shirt.

"Traveling?" Andy asked. "A flight attendant? Erm…I don't know the names of any flight attendants…."

Zipping up her imaginary suitcase, Pam rolled her eyes. She took her suitcase to her invisible car and stuffed it in the trunk.

"Are you packing for a vacation?" said Kevin.

Pam stopped using her shoulder to shove her bag into the car and jabbed her finger at Kevin excitedly.

"Vacation!?" he said, excited about eliciting a clue.

Pam shook her head again, but continued to point at Kevin.

"Packing?" said Dwight.

Beaming, Pam shook her outstretched hand in the "sort of" gesture that Michael had used before. Then, looking expectantly at Jim, jerked two thumbs at her chest.

"BOOBS!" Michael screamed. "Pamela Anderson! Janet Jackson! Jessica Simpson!"

Ignoring him, Pam continued to look at Jim and jab her thumbs at herself.

"Packing…" Jim muttered under his breath. "Packing…OH! OH MY GOD! YOU'RE TODD PACKER!"

"Yep!" Pam chirped.

Jim chuckled. "What has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?"

A bunch of the employees pointed at themselves with both thumbs. "This guy!" they chorused.

* * *

"Of course I knew that she was being Todd Packer. He's only my BFF, best friend forever. I could have told she was imitating him if I had my eyes closed," Michael lied. "I just…didn't want to say it right away. I figured I should…you know…give the others a chance. That's the diplomatic thing to do, when you have an unfair edge. And I'm a regional manager. Which means I'm a professional, and that's, like, the same as a diplomat. So….wait…what was the question again?"

"Andy is totally _not_ the master of charades. _I'm_ the one who guessed 'packing.'" Dwight smirked. "All Andy got was 'flight attendant.' What an idiot!"

"Thanks! I thought it was a good idea, too!" Pam chirped. "I knew Jim would get it. He always mocks Todd Packer, so I figured it'd be easy for him. And I really want him to get up there because he'll probably imitate someone in the office, and he's so good at that. Plus, it's an excuse to look at him…" Pam trailed off, gazing dreamily into space for a second before realizing she was making a bit of a fool of herself. Sje blushed and cleared her throat. "Not that I need one. An excuse, I mean. To look at him. Because we've been dating for two months. So anytime I want…I can…I mean…oh dear."

* * *

"Jim's turn!" Michael crowed.

"Hurry up, Big Tuna, because I want a turn before the next game!" Andy pleaded.

Jim carefully uncoiled his length and stood up slowly. He stretched his arms over his head and sighed. Then he twisted from side to side, cracking his back a bit. Arms, quads, and pinky fingers were also painstakingly stretched.

"Gee, Tuna, take your time," he drawled sarcastically

"Okay," Jim said.

Andy scowled as Jim meticulously stretched his ear lobes before meandering to the front. Clearing his throat, Jim pointed at himself.

"Person," said Phyllis.

"How many words?" Kelly asked.

Jim ignored the question. Instead, he lay down on the sand, eyes closed. A few seconds later, his eyes popped open and he sat up. He looked around, leaped to his feet, and tottered a bit, before pin-wheeling his arms and toppling sideways onto his butt.

His engaged audience laughed, immediately aware of who Jim was silently impersonating. "Dwight! You're Dwight!" Andy called.

"Yes!" Jim said, pointing at Andy. He high-fived the annoying man. "Andy, you _definitely_ own this game!"

Naturally, being depicted in a negative way during a game of charades pissed Dwight off. Jim complimenting Andy, however, iced the cake.

Dwight proceeded to overreact.

"Michael!" Dwight cried, standing and pointing contemptuously at Jim. "Make him stop!"

"Stop…_what_, Dwight?" Jim said. "My turn is over."

Dwight continued to address Michael. "MAKE HIM STOP TORMENTING ME!"  
"It's just charades, Dwight," said Phyllis.

"Yeah, Dwight," Michael agreed. "You're supposed to make fun of people during charades. That's what makes it interesting."

"What's interesting," Dwight seethed, "is that Jim NEVER gets blamed for making a mockery of me. Like with my bed this morning! He makes up some ridiculous story and _everyone _buys it because Jim's so _funny_ and _charming_ and – and – _Jim-_y! Well, you know what? I don't think Jim is any of those things! I HATE HIM!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Michael cried, as Dwight, fuming, took a step towards Jim. "Hate is a strong word, Dwight."

"You really hate me?" Jim whimpered.

Dwight stared around at all of his colleagues, gaze lingering on Jim's trembling lips and watering hazel eyes.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Well, Dwight, I love you," Jim declared brazenly. "And any and everything I do to you is an act of love! So, frankly, I'm offended that you are slighting my affections."

"What are you talking about?" Dwight demanded.

"Don't you see?" Jim implored. "Dwight, you're the love of my life! I just…I don't know how to express my feelings in any other way than by teasing you. When I poke fun, it's not out of hate. It's out of _love_, Dwight. Love! Sweet, pure, innocent _love_!"

"Aw, see, Dwight?" Michael crooned. "Jim is just trying to be nice! He doesn't hate you at all! He's like a five year old who pulls his crush's hair because he is emotionally stunted!"

Jim dropped to his knees in front of Dwight, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "Hopelessly devoted to _youuu!"_ he sang in a warbling falsetto.

"Fact!" Dwight bellowed. "_Grease_ is the worst musical EVER! And you're LYING! You do NOT love me! AND NOW I HATE YOU MORE!"

Jim let go of Dwight's shirt and backed up a few paces. He clasped his hands in front of him and twiddled his fingers. He addressed Dwight sadly, without averting his eyes from his fluttering hands.

"So does this mean that I have no chance with you?"

"Correct," Dwight spat.

"Well…at least I can love you from afar," Jim whispered, winking discreetly at the camera.

* * *

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Dwight said darkly. "Jim makes up some B.S. story to cover his butt and everyone buys it. Well, I'm not buying it! I'm 68 percent sure that Jim is not in love with me! And I'm 17 percent sure that Jim put my bed in the water!" He frowned. "Come to think of it…I'm also about 51 percent sure that Jim put those rocks in my back pack yesterday…."

"Poor Jim," said Creed. "It sucks to be in love with a man who doesn't love you back...I would know."

"My bonding trip was a success!" Michael chirped. "Jim doesn't hate Dwight! He's in _love _with him!" Michael sighed. "Todd was right; Jim is such a queer. Which is fine with me, but still. And it fits, because this explains his love of Dwight's natural moldy aroma. And why he knows the lyrics to a song from a Broadway musical. But…none of this explains his devotion to Pam…." He shrugged.

"Okay, that was one of_ the_ best performances I have _ever _seen!" Karen gushed. "Jim should be an actor!"

Pam giggled at something the camera man said. "Oh yeah, I definitely feel threatened by Jim's undying love for Dwight. I'm going to have to pull a Karen and talk to Jim about his feelings for hours on end every night this week!" Suddenly, she frowned. "Was that mean? I wasn't trying to be mean!"

"When I grow up," said Toby wistfully, "I want to be like _Jim_."

"Of course I'm desperately in love with Dwight," Jim said. He smiled. "But I'm definitely going to have to keep that one going." He listened to the camera man, and then shook his head. "No, I don't hate him at all! He completes me. Without him to make fun of, I think I would die of boredom every single week day. At least I'd have Pam to revive me. And, to answer the second part of your question, I guess I do feel a bit guilty after I prank him sometimes…until I witness his priceless reactions. And everyone else's. Especially Pam's. As long as pranks make her smile, they're _more_ than worth it."


	10. Kryptonite

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: The talking heads are different in this chapter than in the others. I thought I'd try something a bit different. Just a warning. And thanks very much to everyone who reviewed! Feedback is really helpful/delicious.

**Chapter 10: Kryptonite**

"Okay!" Michael cried. "Ready to get your _charade on,_ Andy?"

"I don't think continuing with charades is a very good idea, Michael," Phyllis warned, inconspicuously jilting her head toward the moping Dwight.

Michael took the hint. "Fine," he grumbled. "I guess we could always move onto the next activity.

"Aww, c'mon!" Andy whined. "I want a turn!"

Michael looked pointedly at Dwight. "Well, _somebody_ has ruined this game for all of us, Andy, so you're going to have to suck it up and move on." Andy sulked with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine," Andy huffed.

"I think we should engage in one of my creative, beach-specific events instead!" Michael continued, perking up at the thought of another game.

Karen winced at the word "creative." "This can't be good," she whispered in Phyllis's ear.

"What kind of game do you have in mind, Michael?" Oscar asked in a manner that suggested he'd rather not find out.

"A sandcastle building contest! We're gonna get _down_ and _dir-tay_!" Michael cried. He beamed around at the crowd for a moment, obviously expecting lots of enthusiasm and bubbling excitement. Crickets chirped, but, other than that….

Angela broke the silence first. "I don't want to get my hands dirty," Angela declared.

"Well, suck it up, Angela, because you're building a sandcastle whether you want to or not," Michael huffed.

"Little kids build sand castles, and we're all adults!" Andy complained. Then he grinned. "Except for maybe Dwight, who's acting like a big _baby_!" Andy chuckled at his own joke. Dwight glared daggers at him.

"I wish I had laser vision…" he muttered under his breath, continuing to stare down his coworker. Angela patted his arm sympathetically.

Michael suddenly came up with an alternative to dirty hands: dirty _everything_.

"We could bury each other in the sand instead!" he offered.

"No!" the employees protested in unison.

"It'd be fun! We could time and see who takes the longest to dig themselves out of the ground!"

"I think building sandcastles is a great idea," Karen backtracked hastily.

Michael grinned; that was exactly what he had wanted to hear. "Well, then, sandcastle contest it is!"

There was a collective sigh from his weary audience.

"How does this work?" said Kelly.

"That's what she said!" Michael giggled. Everyone looked confused.

"I don't get it," Toby confessed.

Ignoring him, Michael continued, "I'm the judge, because I'm the boss. Everyone will have a partner, and each pair will spread out along the beach so that you can't see each other; we don't want any copy cats! Originality, people! That's the key! After an hour, I'll come around and pick the coolest one. The winners will get a super amazing prize!"

"What's the prize?" Andy inquired eagerly.

"You'll see in an hour!" Michael chirped. "Now pair up!"

The employees all gravitated toward their preferred partners.

"Okay, ready? Set? G – wait! Never mind! I need a watch!" Michael looked around. "Dwight, can I borrow your stop watch?"

The internal struggle between Dwight's anger with Michael and dog-like loyalty to his boss lasted a good minute. The butt-kissing, devoted part of the beet farmer won.

"Here," he said, yanking his clock from around his neck and handing it over grudgingly.

Michael pressed a few buttons. "GO!" he yelled suddenly.

Startled, Andy jumped a little before snatching Karen's hand and positively skipping toward the far end of the beach. Karen looked like she was about to cry.

"Poor Karen, stuck with Andy again," a sympathetic Phyllis whispered to Stanley as they shuffled to their own spot.  
"She's not the only one I feel bad for," Stanley drawled. He jerked his thumb to their left, where Kelly was leading Toby past them, jabbering excitedly in his ear. Toby shot them a pained expression that clearly read, "I want to die," as he shuffled past.

"Well, at least you have a good partner, Stanley!" Phyllis said.

Stanley grunted.

* * *

"Yeah, I thought of the sandcastle contest all on my own!" Michael boasted in front of the camera. "I thought it was pretty clever. And I'm not going to tell you what the prize is! Secrets, secrets are so fun when I am the keeper of one!" He frowned at something the camera man said. "That's how the rhyme goes!" Michael replied indignantly, "just not word for word! But I have poetic license. I'm distantly related to Shakespeare. And Sacagawea, but I don't think she was a poet…."

* * *

After Michael's talking head, the camera man realized that he had a whole hour to kill. Sighing wistfully, and wondering why he ever took this moderately dull job in the first place, he decided to make rounds of the sandcastle builders. He visited Karen and Andy's plot of sand first.

Andy and Karen were at the end of the beach that was the farthest to the left of the trail. Enthusiasm radiated from Andy; the camera man was afraid to come to close and catch it, like it was some sort of infectious disease. Karen, sitting with her knees drawn to her chin a few feet away from Andy, seemed to be of the same opinion.

Wrist-deep in a moat, Andy felt the camera on him and looked up, beaming. "This is going to be so much fun!" he chirped.

Over his shoulder, Karen mouthed, "Help me!"

* * *

Next in line were Creed and Meredith. Both were reclining in the sand. Creed replied nonchalantly to the camera man's question. "We already built our sandcastle."

Meredith grinned and pointed to her right. There, snug in a little hole in the sand, sat the giant, lidded paper cup containing her morning drink. Out of the straw protruded a stick with a leaf attached to the top. The leaf fluttered slightly in the breeze. Meredith pointed at it proudly. "It even has a flag," she said.

* * *

Toby and Kelly were found working in the wet sand near the water. Kelly responded to the camera man's question in her usual overly-perky manner. "Can't you tell what kind of castle we're building?" she bubbled rhetorically. "It's Johnny Depp's mansion! It's easy to tell because…" she went off into some spiel about exterior design, number of bedrooms, and landscaping. "I'm going to go find some plants to stick in the garden!" she concluded, skipping off to a cluster of vegetation a few yards away.

Toby looked forlornly at they're sandy mansion. "Listening to her makes my ears bleed…."

* * *

When the camera man spotted Jim and Pam, the sandy couple had not yet noticed him. Half-heartedly telling himself that no, he wasn't snooping, but merely doing his job, the camera man stealthily tip toed closer to the pair. Lens peeking through the water reeds, the camera man crouched and adjusted the focus so that Pam and Jim's outlines were clear. Ah, modern technology. Watching them through the camera, he proceeded to eavesdrop.

"I still don't see why we have to build behind these specific water reeds," Pam complained, patting some damp sand into place.

Jim smiled crookedly. "Are you telling me that Michael's little vegetation dance didn't turn you on? I picked this spot because they water reeds jog my memory enough to make me feel hot and sweaty – "

"Ew, stop! No!" Pam protested.

Grinning, Jim continued as if he had never been interrupted. "– and sexy and giddy and – ouch!"

Armed with a reed, Pam launched herself over the sandcastle that separated them and beat upon Jim.

"First a pillow, then Michael's makeshift pole!" Jim cried, laughing, as Pam ceased fire and collapsed in a giggling heap beside him. "Quit _hitting_ on me, Beesly," he joked.

Pam rolled her eyes at him. "That was so corny!"

He smiled. "What do you expect?"

She thought for a moment. "You're right. You're just corny in general."

Jim waggled his eye brows at her. "You know you like it," he growled, pushing her backwards onto their now-ruined sandcastle. Looming over her, he pinned her arms down with one hand and used his other to tickle her mercilessly.

Pam writhed on the sand. "Stop! Jim! The sandcastle! Stop tickling me!" she laughed.

Ignoring her pleas, he continued to tickle her. "Not until you admit that every corny thing I say turns you on! Say I'm the corniest!" His roving fingers elicited another peal of laughter from her. "Say it!"

"You win! You win!" she screeched, attempting and failing to fend off his hands. "You're the corniest!"

Jim stopped tickling her, but didn't unpin her. "That's what I thought," he muttered impishly, and he leaned down for a kiss.

Gulping, the camera man hastily extracted his lens from the brush. He quickly fled the scene, feeling immensely guilty for intruding on such a personal moment. He also felt a bit nauseous. _Ugh_, he thought, _fluffy new love…. _Vowing to announce his presence to the rest of the pairs, he rushed off to find his next victims, keeping in mind that he owed Jim and Pam one for witnessing something private.

* * *

Phyllis and Stanley were arguing far enough down the beach so that Pam and Jim's lovey-dovey-ness was inaudible, rendering them oblivious to their coworkers' ministrations. Clearing his throat, the camera man stepped clearly into Phyllis and Stanley's line of site before turning on his camera. Phyllis noticed the camera first.

"I think Stanley should help build the castle!" Phyllis announced. She pointed at Stanley, who was stretched out in the sand with his crossword puzzle.

"What's a seven letter word for 'grumpy?'" he said indifferently.

Phyllis scowled at him and decorated her pathetic lump of a castle with pebbles. "Stanley," she breathed fiercely.

Stanley didn't hear her slight, and continued to frown at his puzzle with furrowed brows. Finally, he cried triumphantly, "Grouchy!"

"Grouchy…Stanley…same thing," Phyllis muttered, fed up with her disinterested partner.

* * *

Oscar and Kevin, the camera man was happy to see, were actually engaged in building a castle. The main part was about as thick as Kevin's thigh (which is saying a lot), and flanked by several smaller towers. Colorful pebbles and water vegetation brightened up the scene. A wide moat meandered around the spectacle.

"Thanks!" Oscar said when the camera man complimented their handy work.  
"Want to know how we did it?" Kevin said with a mysterious, toothless smile. Prompted by the camera man's nod, Kevin continued, "We stole Dwight's empty soft soap bottles" – he pointed at the little towers – "and Angela's back pack" – Oscar gestured at the main tower – "and then we covered them in sand!"

"That's why they're so tall!" Oscar beamed.

"That prize has my name all over it," Kevin declared. "Kevin Malone…nice…."

* * *

The camera man was lucky that he found Dwight and Angela at all. The only thing that alerted him to their presence deep with in a cluster of bushes was their carrying voices.

Dwight's sounded frustrated. "No, that's not good enough," he muttered.

Angela's cold voice responded to Dwight's flat one. "Well, why don't you think of a plan to get Jim back, then, if you're so clever!"

A yard from the bushes, the camera man halted abruptly. He bit his lip. He knew that the conversation would end as soon as he stepped into view, but he wanted to keep listening, despite his earlier vow to quit eavesdropping. _They're planning to get back at Jim_, he justified his snooping, _so maybe if I listen and tell Jim, I won't feel so guilty for watching him and Pam earlier! _He crept forward slightly as Dwight rejoined Angela's comment.

"Sorry, monkey," he apologized. "I'm just angry. I really want to get Jim back but I don't know how…unless…." Dwight lowered his voice, and the camera man strained his ears to hear the salesman's excited whisper. "Maybe this is more of a Spiderman situation than anything else! Maybe the reason that Jim keeps on coming even when I try to get back at him is because hurting _him_ isn't the way to bring his downfall…oh, no! His kryptonite is the one that he _loves_!"

"Isn't kryptonite from Superman?"

"Whatever," Dwight snapped. "But do you get what I mean?"

There was a pause, and then Angela breathed, "Do you mean we should do something awful to Pam?"

"Exactly!" Dwight said. "I say that we convince her that Jim really _is_ in love with me! Then they'll be mad at each other, and Jim will be miserable!"

Angela sighed. "You're so smart."

Suddenly, Michael screamed, breaking up the conspirators' exchange. "Time's up! Meet me at the middle of the beach!" he boomed.

The camera man scampered away before Dwight and Angela could spot him, thinking giddily, _I've got to tell Jim!_


	11. Up To Certain Things

Disclaimer: I own The Office! It's mine! All mine! Just kidding.

Author's Note: I AM VERY SORRY for not updating in such a long time! I blame my long absence on my future AP bio and English teachers, who assigned me multiple summer reading books, packets, and projects. Seeing as school starts in, erm, two days, I'm NEARLY done with my homework, and I think it's about time I take a break and do something unrelated to the Calvin cycle. So, yay, here's chapter 11. I feel like I should warn you – there's some fluff at the end, so if you're allergic to jam…sorry. I had to get it out of my system. And, as usual, many thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter! Feedback completes me.

**Chapter 11: In Which Certain People Are Up To Certain Things**

Andy grinned smugly at the camera as he walked toward his boss. "Of course Karen and I will win," he said confidently. "Although the sandcastle was basically my doing, so I deserve the prize more than her. You see, I have a Cornell back round in sand art. I kid you not! When I wasn't busy being hung over and Frolfing – Frisbee golfing, duh – I started a sandcastle club. My specialty? Sand replicas of the Taj Mahal." He sighed, eyes glazed with memories. "Beer me that prize, Michael…."

"Our sandcastle…is _awesome_," Kevin declared with a toothless grin. "We are _so _going to win. I hope the prize is edible…or naked."

Meredith sipped her sandcastle as she walked along, the makeshift flag tucked behind her ear. "I was thirsty," she explained.

"I will win this contest. Fact: I am a Schrute, and Schrutes are_ always_ on top," Dwight said seriously. "I hope the prize is a sack of potatoes, because I'm running out of ammo for my spud gun."

Angela ignored the camera man's question, and instead asked him one of her own as the group congregated. "This is where we were sitting earlier, right?" Her face fell as the camera man nodded. "I thought I left my back pack here…I think I've lost it….have you seen it?"

* * *

"Allllllllll-righty then!" Michael rumbled, halting the talking head sessions. "Let's check out these sandcastles!"

"We're first! We're first!" Andy cried, speeding to the front of the group.

The rest of the Dunder-Mifflinites hurried away in pursuit of the overly enthusiastic, skipping salesman. The camera man tapped Jim and Pam on their shoulders, indicating that they should hang back, in order to inform the couple of Dwight's scheme.

Pam shook her head when the camera man finished his story. "Typical Dwight," she sighed. "Thanks for telling us. Now we know to be on guard and ignore him…."

The camera man saluted the couple and walked off to join the group.

A smile had slowly spread across Jim's face while the camera man spoke. By the time Pam had responded, his face was positively glowing. He flung an arm around her shoulder and sighed.

"Oh, Pam."

She grinned up into his glazed-over hazel eyes. "You okay? You look…drunk."

"Drunk with happiness," he murmured.

She laughed. "Why?"

He spun to face her, hands firmly planted on her shoulders. "What do you mean, _why_!?" he cried. "Dwight has, yet again, given us the perfect opportunity to mess with him, and we didn't even have to lift a finger!"

Pam's eyes lit up. "You have a plan?"

Jim grinned. "I _always_ have a plan."

* * *

When Michael led his grumpy entourage back to the middle of the beach, having already trooped around the entire pond, Pam and Jim were still huddled on the beach in a two-person conference. Michael cleared his throat authoritatively, hands on his hips. Startled, Jim and Pam sprang apart. Jim got to his feet first, looking guilty, and, after brushing sand off his butt, helped Pam up.

"So," Michael said darkly. "What have you been up to? You missed the judging."

"Sorry, Michael," Pam muttered.

"Sorry," Jim echoed.

"I'm very disappointed in you two. Not only did you slack off on team bonding, but you didn't even have a castle! Just a pile of sand! Like something that used to be a sandcastle but then got ruined. With lots of dents in it, like somebody was rolling around on top of…oh…ew…."

Pam blushed as Michael, coming to a realization, tugged at his collar uncomfortably. Dwight snickered. Jim shot the camera a nervous, wide-eyed look. Kevin giggled.

Michael was at a loss for words. "Well, that's just…I don't even…I hope you guys at least used protection."

"No!" Pam cried.

"You didn't use protection?" Kelly squealed.

"Ugh," said Angela.

"I meant that no, we weren't doing…_that_!" Pam clarified.

"Definitely not!" Jim agreed.

"LIARS! DEMARCATION!" Dwight bellowed, pointing a finger at the scandalous sandcastle wreckers.

"Dwight! Shhhhhut…it!" Michael hissed. "I'm the one who gives demarcations around here, not you!"

"But I'm Assistant Regional Manager!" Dwight protested.

"To the," Jim reminded him dutifully.

"Whatever," Dwight sneered. "Jim missed team bonding, so demarcation! Fire him!"

"I'm not going to fire Jim."

"THEN GIVE HIM A DEMARCATION!"

"What's a demarcation?" Kevin asked.

"I have no idea," Michael sighed.

"I'm lost," Toby announced.

"That's because you have no family to guide you," Michael quipped.

"Hey…" said Toby.

"Michael, will you just be nice to Toby?" Kelly jabbered. "It's not like he's ever done anything to you! This is just like when Donald Trump got pissed at Rosie!"

Oscar raised an eyebrow at Kelly. "How is Michael hating Toby anything like that?"

"Well, because Michael and the Donald both have really weird hair and…."

The sudden eruption of noise as a series of pointless arguments broke out swallowed the rest of Kelly's reasons. Jim and Pam stood dumbfounded as the rest of the office bickered like eight year olds. Finally, someone had enough sense to shut everyone up.

"QUIET!" Phyllis boomed.

Crickets chirped.

"Wow, you don't usually hear those during the day," Andy noted in reference to the crickets.

Phyllis glared at him. He shut up.

Stunned at the boldness of his rather soft-spoken employee, Michael continued to stare at Phyllis for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He cleared his throat.

"Well…thanks, Phyllis."

Phyllis beamed at him. Michael cleared his throat again.

"Well, whatever Pam and Jim did on top of their sandcastle is their business…and mine, because I'm the boss, so we'll talk about this later."

"No, we won't," said Jim.

Michael cocked his head to the side. "Yes, we will…I…whatever."

"Who won the prize?" said Andy.

Michael grinned. "Oh, right, that sandcastle contest!" he chirped. "I nearly forgot! Seeing as they were the only ones to make an _actual _castle, the winners are…Kevin and Oscar!"

The winners high-fived.

"Yay!" cheered Oscar.

"Niiice," drawled Kevin. "So what's our prize?"

"Why do they get the prize?" cried Andy. "What about my Taj Mahal!?"

"The Taj Mahal isn't a castle," Michael reasoned.

Andy made to protest, but Karen put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Andy glowered at Michael in silence, his arms crossed.

"What about ours?" said Angela.

"Yeah!" Dwight piped up. "Our sandcastle was a work of art!"

"Again," Michael said, "I don't know what your…_thing_…was, but it definitely was NOT a castle!"

"Mine was a castle!" said Phyllis.

"Mmm…right, okay," said Michael. "But…no."

Phyllis's shoulders slumped. Stanley rolled his eyes as he filled in 9 Across.

"So, what's our prize?" Kevin repeated.

"Your prize is that you guys _don't_ have to pay the fee for using the camp site!"

"There's a fee?" said Karen.

Michael got a deer-in-the-head-lights kind of look on his face. "Oh…I thought I told you…didn't I tell you?"

"You did not," said Stanley.

"Oh," Michael muttered. "Well, it's $15 dollars per person, so…."

The employees grumbled. Toby summed it all up nicely:

"This sucks," he mumbled.

* * *

"I don't see how a crucifix with a beet on it _isn't_ a castle," Dwight said matter-of-factly. "Whatever. I can spare $15. I am, after, Dunder Mifflin's top salesman." He smiled gloatingly at the camera without showing teeth.

Kevin sighed. "The prize isn't naked…."

Kelly crossed her arms across her chest and huffed indignantly at the camera. "Johnny Depp's mansion is totally a castle! It has thirteen and a half balconies! And Captain Jack is the KING! And the king always lives in a castle!" Her bottom lip quivered in response to a question from the camera man. "How is he a king?" she repeated back sadly. "He's the king of my heart."

Angela gazed furtively past the lens at the camera man. "Are you _sure_ you haven't seen my backpack?"

"So far this weekend, I have participated in too many stupid games, revealed my preference in underwear, listened to Andy sing, built a replica of the Taj Mahal that looks more like my grandfather's head than a building, and been bitten by bugs," Karen listed flatly. "And now I'm out fifteen bucks. So yeah, I'm in a great mood."

* * *

"What now?" Karen sighed after Michael had collected fifteen dollars from everyone except for Oscar and Kevin.

"We head back down!" said Michael. "Let's go back to camp and get our stuff."

Murmurs of relief passed through the crowd as the employees started off towards the clearing.

"I'm so glad the bonding games are done!" Phyllis confided in Stanley as they left the beach for the shade of the trees. Michael, however, overheard her stage-whisper and set her straight.

"Who said anything about no more bonding games?" he giggled. "We still the whole afternoon to hike down! Just imagine how many activities we can fit in!"

"Yes!" cheered Andy. "I have, like, fifty million more games in mind!"

Toby groaned. "This _sucks_," he repeated, so only Karen could hear him. She patted him on the back sympathetically.

After half an hour, the campsite was cleaned up and everybody was packed. The employees gathered in front of the trail leading to the bottom of the mountain. Before setting off, Michael performed a quick head count.

"We're missing five people!" he exclaimed.

"Kevin's not here," Oscar noted.

"Neither are Dwight and Angela," said Meredith.

"I'm not complaining," Andy muttered.

"And Pam and Jim are gone," said Kelly.

Creed looked puzzled. "Who are they?"

Michael frowned. His eyebrows furrowed in his annoyance. "I wonder what they're up to…."

* * *

Huffing and puffing, Kevin trotted as fast as he could over the soft sand. Finally, he reached his and Oscar's former construction site. He plopped to his knees and deftly dug up Angela's small backpack and stuffed it into his own. Then he turned and loped back the way he came.

* * *

"I've already told you thirteen times, monkey!" Dwight snapped. "I have neither a pen nor paper in my backpack!"

"But you _always_ have writing implements!" Angela argued. "You always have a pad of paper on you to take notes on what Michael says, because Pam is so incompetent in recording accurate minutes!"  
"Yeah, but, we're not at the office, so…." Dwight trailed off and Kevin, wheezing, approached them. He stopped in front of Angela, stooped over, and clutched his knees for a couple minutes, breathing hard. Finally, he straightened and unzipped his backpack. He tugged out Angela's bag and tossed it at her.

"I found this," he said simply, and then he disappeared once more.

Angela and Dwight gazed at each other for a moment, and then Angela dug inside her own bag. She produced a legal pad and a black pen.

"Well, now we have the materials for plans A, B, and C," she said matter-of-factly. "Which plan would you like to carry out?"

A smile spread across Dwight's face. "All. Three. Plans."

The corners of Angela's lips curled slightly. "Very good."

* * *

Pam sighed. "Can we leave the cabin _now_?"

Jim looked from the window against the back wall over to Pam again. "Nope! Dwight and Angela are still standing behind our cabin. If they're planning to sabotage us, we can't interrupt them."

Pam rolled her eyes. "This is so twisted."

Grinning, Jim left the window and strode over to where she sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. He sprawled out next to her. "Don't even kid yourself. You're enjoying this."

Pam smiled slightly. "So what if I am?"

"That means I'm rubbing off on you."

"Never."

"Never say never," Jim quoted.

"Dork," said Pam.

Jim shook his head, still smiling. "Again, with the insults! Can't you just be nice, Beesly?"

Pam gazed up innocently into his hazel eyes, her smile sweet. "Nope," she said simply, and she made to flick him in order to emphasize her mean-ness.

Jim grabbed her fingers before she could touch him. Gently, he pulled her toward him by her arm until their thighs were touching. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. "Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me," Jim chanted softly, entwining his fingers with hers.

"Such a dork," Pam repeated, but she pressed her lips to his anyways.


	12. It's Not Over Yet

_Disclaimer:_ Not mine.

_Author's Note:_ A million apologies for my extended absence! I've been crazy busy since the start of school (junior year really _is_ a bitch…), and finally found an hour to sit and just _write_. This chapter's not terribly long, but I guess it's better than nothing. Hopefully I'll get the final chapters up soon. Again, I'm sorry for the ridiculous delay! Thanks to everyone who reviewed; feedback completes me.

**Chapter 12: It's Not Over Yet**

The sun cast a brilliant glow over the rocky mountainside. The morning air felt warm and clear. Chirping birds perched daintily in the leafy green trees lining the trail. A fluffy bunny hopped daintily across the path. The only thing missing from this vision of wilderness perfection? Dwight K. Schrute.

Duh.

"This one time, at band camp…" Dwight began, walking arm and arm with Angela down the path.

"Yes?" she breathed, clinging to every word of what would undoubtedly be the most intense story ever.

"At band camp, I…" Dwight trailed off, his eyes widening in shock. "GREAT AUNT MARCY'S DIRTY UNDERPANTS!" he screeched in horror.

Angela bumped into him as he came to a sudden halt. She grabbed his arm tightly, looking nervously from his slack-jawed face to the surroundings. "What's wrong, D? What is it? More Nurffles?"

"Nargles," Dwight whispered. "And no…look…." He pointed at the ground. Angela followed his finger with her gaze. Etched into the compact dirt of the path was a message: _Dwight K. Schrute completes me. Love, Jim._

"Um. WHAT THE HELL?" Dwight snapped.

Angela simply stared at the ground in shock.

Dwight etched out the writing with a booted toe. "Just a joke…a prank…ew…just a joke," he muttered to himself.

* * *

"Yeah, we haven't seen Dwight and Angela for a while," Jim said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "For like an hour, actually. Maybe they got eaten while hunting non-existent Belgian geese?" He crossed his fingers. 

"Where is it?" Pam rubbed her cheek gingerly. "Higher?" She moved her fingers to her temple, and swiped at the smudge of dirt there. "Thanks," she smiled, clean now. "Can't imagine where that came from…." She grinned impishly.

Michael sighed wistfully and gazed past the camera into the distance. "I can't believe that we're already a quarter of the way down the mountain. The trip is almost over, and what a long, strange trip it's been!" His voice cracked and he sniffled. A sort of determination came over him. "This trip started off awesome, and it's going to end awesome! THE FUN ISN'T OVER YET!"

* * *

"Okay, people, gather round!" Michael cried. The employees picked themselves up from their various resting places along the trail and congregated around the regional manager. "As you all know, the trip is almost over." 

He mistook the cheering of his audience as depression.

"I know, I know," he consoled. "We'll all be sad to see it end. But, we still have three quarters of the trail to go! And you know what that means!"

"More bug bites?" Stanley supplied.

"More shin splints?" Toby moaned.

"MORE BONDING GAMES!?" Andy shouted.

"YEAH!" Michael cried.

Andy pumped his fist in jubilation. "What are we going to play, Michael?"

"I was thinking 'Who's In My Mouth.'"

* * *

"'Who's In My Mouth,'" Michael informed the camera, "is a game invented by one of the greats, Dane Cook. He's hilarious. When I meet him, though, once I'm famous, too, I'm going to have to give him some tips." Michael leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Some of the things that he says are _very_ racially offensive!"

* * *

"No way, Michael!" Karen protested. 

"Yeah, that's gross," Toby agreed.

"You're gross," Michael snapped, crossing his arms across his chest angrily.

"What about 'Let's Do This, I'm a Cashew?'" Andy suggested.

"No," Jim said flatly.

"That's not even a game," said Oscar. "Just an…activity."

"You would know," Kevin giggled.

"What are you suggesting?" Oscar said, offended.

Pam cut in. "Anyways, Michael, not everyone could participate in that," she commented sagely.

Michael came to the defense of Andy's idea. "Yeah, girls could do it, too!" he told Pam. "Just find a springy twig or something and stick it in your fly."

"Gross," said Kelly.

"We can't even play that," Phyllis said, "because we don't have any cashews."

Creed ferreted through his jacket pocket and withdrew a jam jar. "We could just use some beans as substitutes," he generously offered.

* * *

Creed told the camera matter-of-factly, "I'd offer my mushrooms, but I might need those later."

* * *

"Okay…ew." Michael blanched at the jar of discolored beans, which Creed shook only a few inches from his nose. "Never mind. Let's play a different game."

"Candy Land?" suggested Jim.

"No," Michael replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "That won't work…there isn't a gum drop forest around here…Dwight, do you have any ideas?"

Silence.

"Dwight?"

"He and Angela haven't been with us for like an hour, Michael," Pam said, a little awkwardly.

"Where'd they go?"

"Dwight said something about teaching Angela about hunting Belgian geese."

"But we're not in Belgium…we're in Pennsylvania."

Pam just shrugged.

Michael's shoulders slumped a little, and his mouth turned down with disappointment. "Fine," he sighed. "We'll just play something with out them…."

"Oh. My. God!" Andy crowed. He jumped up and down excitedly. "I have a game! Michael! I have a game!"

Michael perked up immediately at the excitement in his voice. "What is it!?" he demanded.

"AMERICAN IDOL!" Andy screamed.

Kelly squealed and clapped her hands together happily.

* * *

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Kelly gushed at the camera. "American Idol is the best game show _ever_! Ryan Seacrest is soooooo cute! Ohmygod! And Kelly Clarkson is ah-_maaaaay_-zing! I'm totally going to rock at this game!" 

Stanley crossed himself and gazed heavenwards, mouth moving in silent prayer.

"Yeah, I would_ totally_ audition for the next American Idol," Pam joked, "but who would answer the phones when I'm famous?"

* * *

Michael hopped on board immediately. "Yes! Andy! Amazing! Why didn't I think of that sooner?" 

"You were too busy thinking up countless other…awesome…games?" Andy said weakly.

"This is true," Michael agreed. "Well, let's snap to it! Karen, you can be Paula, 'cause you're pretty."

Karen rolled her eyes at the camera.

Michael continued, "Um, Oscar! You can be Simon."

"Why me?" whined Oscar.

Michael ignored him. "And…Stanley! You'll be Randy, obviously."

"Why 'obviously'?" Stanley demanded.

Feeling that there was no way that Michael could yank his foot out of his mouth after that one, Jim mercifully distracted everyone. "Michael, how about I go look for Dwight and Angela? So that they don't miss out on all the fun?"

"Good idea," Michael enthused. "And why don't you take someone with you? Respect the buddy system and all that."

"Smart move," Jim said seriously. He took Pam's hand, and together they set off up the trail in the direction they had come.

In backtracking for half an hour, Jim and Pam took the opportunity to make three stops along the trail, writing more messages in the dirt. Content with their work, they walked toward the rest of the employees again, pausing a couple hundred yards away from the others. They settled down on a large boulder to wait.

* * *

Karen looked meaningfully at the camera. "Never – and I mean _never_ – let Meredith sing. Ever." She shuddered. "_Ever_." 

"When Michael sings," Oscar began, "it's kind of like listening to Cher; at first, you can't really tell if it's a boy or a girl…."

Kelly sang to the camera: "You are. My fiiii-re. The one. Deeee-zye-errr!"

"Yeah. So I sang, 'Wow, I Can Get Sexual, Too.'" Andy sighed contentedly. "Nailed it."

* * *

"Fact: tubas _do_ fit there!" 

Angela giggled a very un-Angela-esque giggled and leaned into Dwight, clinging to his arm. "Oh, D!" she laughed. "That's terrible!"

Suddenly, her laughter died out. "Dwight…."

He followed her gaze to the ground, then gulped.

_Dwight, I want to procreate with you. Love, Pam._

"Dwight!" Angela said more firmly. "What is that all about?!"

Dwight, for the first time in his life, was lost for words.


	13. Banging

_Disclaimer:_ Not mine.

_Author's Note:_ This is it, people; I'm finally tying this sucker up. The chapter is sort of far-fetched, but let's face it, none of these chapters have really been plausible. Oops. ;D Thanks to everyone who's read the story, especially those of you who've given feedback – you're amazing!

**Chapter 13: Banging**

"_Ehff_…" Dwight moaned, halting for a third time in the middle of the path.

"Sweet Jesus," Angela muttered through gritted teeth, spotting the morning's next message:

_ Battlestar Galactica_

_ Star Trek 2_

_ Jim wants to bang Dwight _

_ And Pam does, too._

After staring at the poem for a few moments with bug eyes, Dwight whispered, "Who do you think wrote it?"

"I really doubt it was Jim and Pam," Angela said, her steely voice dripping sarcasm.

"Do you?" Dwight said, still whispering, completely oblivious to her tone in his state of utter discomfort. "Maybe it was Oscar? Or maybe the message is about a _different_ Dwight?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "How many other Dwights do you know?"

"Seven."

* * *

Dwight ticked off his fingers in front of the camera. "My dad, my grandfather, four of my cousins, and my bank teller are all named Dwight." He thought for a moment. "Except one of my cousins spells it with a silent 'l.' He's the odd ball of the family."

* * *

Angela's eyes performed some more acrobatics. "Let me rephrase that: how many other Dwights do you know who, at this moment, are _right here_ in these remote Pennsylvania woods as a part of a trip for an obscure paper company?"

"Er…just one?"

"Exactly!" said Angela. "So, based on these messages…I think that Pam and Jim _actually_ like you! Enough to want to – as they so crudely put it – _bang you_!" Angela used her middle and index fingers to make violent air quotes.

"That is not possible," Dwight said. He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to seem sure of himself, but the waver in a voice betrayed his doubt. "They don't want to do…_that_. This is a prank. Just another prank."

"Is it?" Angela mused. "Or did they just react to our letter in a horrifying, unexpected way!?"

"We wrote them a letter," Angela told the camera tersely. "I slipped it in Jim's sweatshirt pocket while Dwight distracted him, as was part of Plan A. It declared Dwight's undying – and fabricated – love for Jim." Angela bit her lip. "It was supposed to make her jealous, but now I just think it's…_turned her on_!" She scowled.

* * *

"They shouldn't be much longer now," Jim said, peering expectantly up the path and drumming his fingers on the rock.

Pam giggled.

"What?" Jim said, smiling down at her.

"I was just thinking about the letter," she chuckled. "Read it again?"

With a flourish, Jim tugged from his pocket and unfurled a piece of yellow, lined paper. He cleared his throat noisily and made a show of smoothing his features. He read solemnly, "_Dear Jim: I love you. Although I denied this love at the beach this morning, it was only because other people were around…namely Pam, your girlfriend; although I'm sure you'll dump her for me, now that you know your feelings of intense adoration are mutual. Let's do it doggie-style so we can both watch X-files. Love, Dwight."_

Pam giggled again. "That will never get old. And I love that it's in Angela's handwriting."

Jim chuckled. "So sneaky. But really, I think it's the line from 'The Bad Touch' that brings it all together."

"I agree. I can't believe Dwight listens to the Bloodhound Gang…."

"How do you know Dwight stuck in those lyrics? Maybe _Angela_ listens to crude music about sex…."

Pam dissolved into giggles again.

* * *

"America has voted," Michael crowed in his best Ryan Seacrest imitation, "and tonight, one of you will go home!"

"Aren't we all going home?" Phyllis piped up from the audience, having been voted off by America (so…voted off by _Michael_) in an earlier round.

Michael sighed. "I mean that we're going to pick the winner."

"_We're_ going to pick the winner?" Oscar echoed. "Does that mean that the judging panel actually gets to have a say in who wins?"

Michael grinned. "Yeppers."

Oscar looked pleased. Karen didn't. "Oh joy," Stanley muttered, scratching away at a fresh puzzle.

"Can you quit stalling and pick already?" Kelly squealed, jumping up and down impatiently next to Andy, the other finalist. Andy, unlike Kelly, stood serenely, arms crossed smugly over his chest.

* * *

"I got this in the _bag,_" he bragged to the camera.

* * *

"So, can we talk about who gets to stay?" Oscar ventured.

"Not yet," said Michael. "Kelly and Andy get to sing one more song apiece."

This time, Karen joined Stanley in sarcastically mumbling, "Excellent…."

"Ohmigod!" Kelly squealed. "I know _exactly_ what song I'm going to sing!"

"Not so fast, Kelly!" said Michael. "For this final round, there's a theme!"

Kelly's face fell. Everybody exchanged nervous glances. "What's the theme, Michael?" Phyllis ventured tentatively.

Michael grinned. "The Police."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Kevin hollered.

* * *

"I _just_ got out last round!" Kevin fumed at the camera. "Michael is just doing this to make me mad. Stupid cover band…never comes in handy…and if either of them sings Synchronicity – I _or_ II – I will never share my Cup-o-Noodles with them again."

* * *

"YOU!" shouted a shrill voice. Pam started at the noise, upsetting herself and nearly toppling off the rock. Jim steadied her with a grin. "They're here!" he announced unnecessarily, as Dwight and Angela had finally stridden into view.

Angela stormed right up to where the couple sat perched. She jabbed her pointer finger at them. "YOU!" she cried again.

"Hey, Angela," Jim said casually. "What's up?"

"You tell me!" she cried, her face flushed and her eyes frantic.

Jim ignored her and instead addressed Dwight, who had materialized at her side, breathless and pallid. Jim winked at him, causing Dwight to blanch further and Angela, conversely, to turn a funny purple color.

"Hey, Dwight," Pam said huskily, leaning towards him. Angela spluttered and slapped away the hand that Pam used to fix Dwight's ruffled hair. Dwight's eyes went wide and Jim tried not to snort.

"What's going on here?" Angela demanded. "Why are you leaving Dwight these…these…_vulgar_ messages?!"

"Well, when I found out that my feelings for Dwight weren't unrequited," Jim said, brandishing the letter at Angela, "I needed to express myself."

"And when I realized that Dwight and Jim had such strong feelings for each other," Pam added, "I was psyched."  
"Don't you mean 'jealous'?" said Dwight.

"No, I was definitely pumped. Because, you know, Jim's really great, but…I've been looking to…well, how do I put this…spice things up?"

Angela and Dwight just gaped.

"Yeah," Pam continued. "And seeing as the three of us all love each other so much, I figured this was a perfect opportunity to propose a solution to my bedroom boredom."

"And the messages are just there to show how pumped we are that Dwight accepted," Jim finished.

"I didn't accept anything!" Dwight protested, shocked. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Pam giggled. "Oh Dwight, you're such a joker."

Jim produced a second piece of paper from the pocket of his sweatshirt – also lined and yellow. He handed it to Angela, whose jaw dropped as she read it. She finished the quick note, then reeled on Dwight, who blundered backwards as she advanced on him.

"YOU AGREED TO A THREESOME WITH JIM AND PAM!?" she screamed, whacking him with her bag.

"I didn't do that! I didn't!" Dwight protested.

"LIAR!" Angela screamed. "I have the proof, right here! This note of acceptance is in _your _handwriting! And it's on my personalized legal pad, which only you and I have access tom and I _definitely_ didn't write this!"

"It's not!" Dwight cried, shielding his face from Angela's pack with his arms.

* * *

"It's not his handwriting," Pam confirmed for the camera, "but…it's pretty darn close, if I do say so myself. We've been practicing calligraphy in art class." She smiled proudly.

Jim smiled lazily at the camera. "Remind me to thank Kevin again later for the piece of paper."

* * *

With glee, Jim and Pam watched the hectic, melodramatic scene continue to unfold before them from their front row seats on the rock.

"You are disgusting," Angela spit at Dwight, throwing her bag at his feet.

"Monkey, I swear, I don't want to have a threesome with them!" Dwight defended himself. Jim snapped his fingers in an "aw, shucks" gesture, and Pam covered a smile.

"Well," Jim said, "if you're going to go back on your word, I guess Pam and I could just ask Kevin."

"Yeah," Pam agreed. "I'm a big fan of cuddling while watching bowling."

Angela looked like she was going to vomit.

* * *

"Dwight," she seethed at the camera, "has a _lot_ of explaining to do! To make up for all the confusion, he owes me two hundred and twenty seven Hail Marys and a new cat. Black, preferably, with white socks and a pink collar. And if its name is 'Garbage,' I'll risk going to hell for breaking one of the Commandments and personally murder Dwight with a size 22 knitting needle."

Dwight just shook his head, dumbfounded. "Never again will I mess with Jim," he vowed. He shuddered. "Angela is scary when she's angry…."

* * *

The four missing people entered camp as Andy finished the final strains of "Message in a Bottle" and bowed to the applause of his audience. Beaming around at the Dunder-Mifflinites, he recognized the new arrivals.

"Tuna!" Andy cried. "What the hell! You never brought us our microphone-sticks!"

Jim shrugged. "Sorry. I found Dwight and Angela, though." Pam coughed pointedly. "Oh, and Pam helped." She smiled sweetly.

Michael rushed over. "Where were you guys?" he said to Dwight. Angela cut in.

"Dwight can't talk right now," she said sternly, stepping in front of the stooped, muttering salesman. "He's repenting his sins."

"What are you doing with that necklace?" Michael asked Dwight, who was running a chain through his fingers while he mumbled.

Angela answered for him again. "Rosary beads," she corrected the boss. "And leave Dwight alone. He has a filthy soul and a _lot_ of praying to do."

"Michael!" Kelly whined, interrupting the conversation. "Who wins?"

"We still have to talk about it," Oscar told her, gesturing to Karen, Stanley, and himself.

"No," Michael breathed. "We don't need to pick a winner…because…at Dunder-Mifflin, _everybody_ is a winner!"

Kelly pouted. Andy looked crushed. "Lame," Kevin declared.

"Can we go home now?" Toby begged.

* * *

"No, I no longer think that my bonding trip was a success," Michael told the camera, struggling to keep a smile off his face. After a few seconds, a toothy grin burst across his face. "It was a HUGE, GIGANTIC, MASSIVE MIRACLE!" he gushed. "Everybody had the time of their lives, and I know that Jim and Dwight are okay now, because nobody can even remember what got them mad in the first place." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I…actually can't remember…did it have something to do with Sour Patch Kids?"

"I can't believe," Karen said flatly, "that I just spent two days in the woods because of _saran wrap_. I'm swearing off cellophane for life."

"Hail Mary, full of grace…" Dwight mumbled.

"It would have been fun if I had won American Idol," Kelly complained, "but now I'll never know who's better, me or Andy…even though it's definitely me. I'm awesome."

Pam sighed contentedly. "All in all, this was a pretty productive weekend. Definitely wasn't worth fifteen dollars, but hey. Andy jumped in a stream, Dwight showed off his boxers to the world, and Angela beat up a coworker. You don't see things like that every day."

"I finally feel like I've gotten even with Dwight. I really owe Angela a favor now, for having him on such a short leash, and providing me with all this satisfaction." Jim grinned. "Retaliation is oh so sweet."


End file.
